#gonna try to be scarce from here too

[the-yearning-astronaut]

.

[oozedninjas]

I wanted you to be my first ♡

Short thirst of their first time with f!reader!

Warnings: 18+ / MDNI / suggestive / Ninja guys are 20-21 and so is reader / general verses leaned a bit towards Bayverse / overall pretty soft

He's supposed to be in control, know the rules, tame the game... he's supposed to, but this is something so very new, and so exhilarating he scarcely thinks straight. 

"I've never done this before," you pant after breaking the kiss, slipping a ghostly touch down his shell. 

Leo bites down a groan. Your eyes are glossy and your lips swollen, puffy from making out. It doesn't seem fair to keep playing cool.

“Well, neither have I,” he admits, averting his gaze. His dick twitches, pleading him to grind on you, but he refrains.

Gently, your hands cup his cheeks as you make him turn. The heat in his face is lovely and evident. "Let's try together. Here, touch me."  

Be gentle, he thinks. Slow, not too fast, don't scare her. Don't hurt her… 

"Fuck, like that," you breathe, nails digging into his shell, scratching. 

He groans near your throat, and the sound echoes on the crock of your neck, causing you to clench. He moans at the feeling. 

"Doesn’t hurt- no more?” 

“No, no I’m f-fine,” you barely say before closing your eyes, allowing the slow heat in your core to settle, filling you. "Move."

Raphael growls, using all the self-control he's got to refrain from thrusting too harshly. He pulls you toward his plastron, hugging you back, your legs open further to accommodate him. So close like this, you feel complete as much as he does. 

“Shit, doll, you’re so tight,” Raph manages right after a soft groan. “It feels so good."

You're grinding on top of him, arms around his neck. The soft beat of your heart is intimately snug to him. The soft mutters of little moans pour into your mouth as you drink them.

"I want to go further tonight," you whisper, forehead over his own.

Donatello swallows hard. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Are you?" 

Donnie adjusts his glasses, nervously. "Yes," he breathes, perhaps a bit too desperate. "but- but we can stop anytime if you change your mind."

Your lips curl upright, hands cupping his cheeks. "I love you,"

"Tell me if it hurts," Mikey asks as the lines with you. 

After some tentative rubs, he slips in, slowly. Your breath hitches, hand fisting the covers. He's big, a bit too much. 

"Should I stop? You can tell me, it's okay."

It brings a smile to your face. "I'm good, keep going." 

Mikey stares at you just enough to make sure you mean it before thrusting in. "Relax, close your eyes," 

His lips graze your cheek. He did a fine job preparing you but it still stings. Can't be helped, you suppose, just dealt with. You breathe, allowing your body to adjust to his size. 

"I'm gonna make you feel so good... so- mn, you're tight."

"Hurts?" you rush, worriedly.

"No," Mikey breathes, trying his best not to come just by the warmth of your walls. "No, it's- it's so good, angel. You feel so good,"

[solxamber]

Madly in love with how you write the twst cast its all so good genuinely read the idia x sentient npc one and its SO GOOD I THINK NBJVSD

Tossing in a request since it seems like theyre open,,

How about headcanons oneshot whatever you feel like writing, for Azul in mer form x a reader, who understands what he feels about himself, since before they were frequently bullied too, giving way for reader having a terrible self esteem and image of themselves, so when they happen to see him in merform, with the knowledge of his own opinions of his merform, theyre actively being incredibly encouraging and affectionate towards him maybe moreso than normal, to show they arent gonna hate him for just being himself

Romantic preferred but go with whatever ya wanna if you do end up writin, have a good day ! :]

Good enough - Azul x Reader

Thank you so much!! I'm really glad you liked it! 🫶 and thanks for the request <3 I hope you like it!

Azul had always been self-conscious about his merform. He’d avoid showing it at any cost, especially to you. The sight of his tentacles felt like a reminder of everything he was insecure about. His mind was quick to dredge up memories of those who had ridiculed him—distant echoes that still haunted him.

But today, fate had conspired against him.

You didn’t mean to stumble upon him while he was in his merform, swimming quietly in a private lagoon, seeking solitude. The moment your eyes met his, Azul froze. Panic coursed through him, and his tentacles twitched in agitation. He wanted to flee, to hide, to get out of sight before you said anything that might sting.

Azul immediately tried to disappear beneath the water, a soft ripple marking where he’d submerged. But you could see the tips of his tentacles, still close to the surface, betraying his location.

“Azul?” you called out gently, trying not to spook him. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

A few bubbles rose to the surface. Slowly, his head appeared again, water cascading off his shoulders. He wouldn’t meet your gaze, his eyes averted in shame. “I… didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Neither did I,” you said with a light chuckle, settling yourself by the water's edge. “But since I am, why don’t you talk to me?”

He hesitated, tentacles curling around him protectively. His gaze flickered up briefly before darting back down again. It wasn’t like Azul to look so… vulnerable. You waited patiently, giving him the time to collect his thoughts, refusing to press too hard.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he whispered, “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years. I’ve built myself up to be powerful, untouchable.” He paused, his voice trembling slightly. “But… the bullying… it still got to me more than I’d like to admit.”

The admission felt like it had been pulled from deep within him, something he’d kept buried for far too long. It hurt to hear him speak with such anguish, the usually confident Azul now stripped of his armor.

You slid closer, dipping your feet into the water as if bridging the distance between you could make your words sink deeper. “Azul, that doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you less than what you’ve become.”

Azul’s eyes flicked up to you, filled with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. His tentacles, once coiled tightly around him, relaxed just slightly.

“Those people—they didn’t define you. You’ve done that for yourself,” you continued, voice steady and firm. “And you’ve built something incredible, something they could never take from you. But it’s okay if it still hurts. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He was silent for a long moment, letting your words sink in. Slowly, his tentacles began to uncurl further, stretching out in the water like a silent surrender.

“You know, I was bullied too when I was younger."

Azul's gaze flickered, his usual composure faltering. He wasn't expecting that. You had always seemed so confident, so at ease. He could scarcely imagine you feeling the same shame he had once felt.

"I get it. People can be cruel, and they don’t need a good reason to tear you down. I thought it was because something was wrong with me… because I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to be kind."

Azul remained silent, but you saw his posture relax ever so slightly. You continued, voice softer, “But I’m starting to realize… that I’m not what they said I was. And neither are you.”

His tentacles curled in close again, an instinctive defense. His voice was hesitant when he spoke. “And what am I, in your eyes?”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Someone who doesn’t have to hide. Someone who’s clever, capable… and worth being proud of. Tentacles or not.”

Azul was staring now, looking for any trace of deception or insincerity in your words. But he found none. Instead, he found your gentle gaze, filled with admiration that made his heart race in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re... not disgusted?" he asked softly, the vulnerability in his tone almost breaking your heart.

"Disgusted?" You laughed gently. "Azul, no way. Actually..." You leaned in conspiratorially, "I think you look beautiful."

Azul looked at you then, truly looked at you. His eyes were wide with surprise, as though he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Slowly, his lips quirked up into a faint smile, tentative but genuine.

“Beautiful, huh?” he asked softly, a touch of amusement in his tone, but there was something deeper in his gaze—something vulnerable and hopeful.

You smiled back at him. “Absolutely. And, Azul… you don’t have to hide from me. I see you. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never expected to hear words like that, not directed at him, not sincerely. And from you? Someone he held in such high regard? Azul wasn’t sure how to respond, so he did the only thing he could—he let your words sink in.

As he studied you—his tentacles uncoiling slowly in the water—you reached out, your hand grazing the smooth surface of one of them. His breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your touch was light, affectionate. Comforting.

For the first time in a long while, Azul felt… accepted. He felt like he didn’t need to hide, not from you. The world might still be cruel, but with you by his side, it didn’t seem so overwhelming.

In a quieter voice, you added with a teasing grin, “Plus, if anyone has a problem with your tentacles, you could just... slap them out of the way, right?”

Azul’s laugh bubbled up unexpectedly—rich and genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both shared a warm silence for a moment before he raised one of his hands from the water. His fingers were delicate and graceful as he reached for yours, gently intertwining them. “Thank you… for seeing me.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze, your voice filled with determination. “You don’t have to thank me, Azul. I’m always going to see you.”

As you sat there, your hand intertwined with Azul's, the world seemed to slow down around you. The soft ripple of the water, the gentle warmth of the sun filtering through the lagoon, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a perfect bubble outside of reality. You couldn’t help but notice the way Azul’s fingers fit so naturally with yours, his touch unexpectedly warm and comforting.

Azul’s gaze was locked on you, something unreadable and intense flickering in his deep blue eyes. His tentacles, which had once been so tightly coiled, now drifted lazily in the water, brushing lightly against your legs. There was a new kind of softness to him, a vulnerability that he’d only ever shown to you.

“You really are something special,” he repeated, this time with a weight that made your heart skip a beat.

His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. The smile on your lips faltered for a moment as the air around you seemed to shift, charged with a sudden tension that was anything but uncomfortable. Azul’s eyes flickered down to your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You’re the only one who’s ever seen me like this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The only one who’s ever made me feel… worthy”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. His words, so genuine and vulnerable, struck a chord deep within you. You hadn’t expected him to open up like this, hadn’t anticipated the way your own emotions would swell in response.

“And you…” Azul’s voice softened even more as he met your gaze again, his eyes glinting with something that made your pulse quicken. “You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel truly seen.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat where neither of you moved, and yet everything seemed to change. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, the distance between you was closing, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The scent of saltwater hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of his presence.

Azul’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light as though you were something fragile, precious. He studied your face with an intensity that made your cheeks heat, his expression soft but filled with something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

Then, before you could process it, Azul gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, almost hesitant at first, as though he were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, it felt like everything around you disappeared—the lagoon, the past, the pain of old memories—none of it mattered in that moment.

You responded in kind, leaning into the kiss, your hand tightening around his as if to ground yourself in the reality of it all. His lips were warm against yours, soft and reassuring, and the taste of the sea lingered faintly on them. It was a quiet, tender kiss, filled with unspoken promises and a vulnerability that neither of you had dared show the world before now.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you shared the same space, the same air. Azul’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes dark and warm with a depth of affection you hadn’t expected to see there.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but unwavering. “Inside and out.”

Azul closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath. When he opened them again, they were filled with something warm and tender, something that made your heart feel like it was swelling in your chest.

“And you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion, “are more than I ever deserved.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Azul, you deserve everything.”

Azul smiled at you, the expression soft and genuine in a way that made your heart flutter. His hand still cradled your cheek, and as he leaned in again, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel like, for the first time in a long time, you both had finally found something—someone—worth holding onto.

And in that soft, intimate moment, beneath the soft sunlight, it felt as though the walls he’d carefully built around himself were beginning to fall. Not entirely gone, but for the first time, Azul felt he didn’t need them quite as much—not with you here, not with the way you looked at him, like he was something precious.

Masterlist

[catcze]

The edge of Wriothesley’s desk digs into the small of your back, the hard wood undoubtedly leaving an indent in your skin from how you’ve leaned on it. Any other time you’d frown and huff, but it was difficult to properly gripe about it right now.

“Your grace.”

“Yes?” The Duke murmurs damn near right into your ear, almost low enough to be a purr. With how close he is —how his face hovers over your and his hands rest on either side of your waist, bracketing you in— you can almost hear the rumble of the word come straight from his chest.

You can leave this proximity easily— you know this, and so does he. But for some outlandish reason, you find yourself inclined to rest here, surrounded by him, the desk at your back be damned.

“Your grace,” you try again, voice soft to match his. “What are you doing?”

It’s odd to see the normally eloquent man, who never stutters in his words or backtrack in his thoughts, to be so quieted— almost struggling with finding the right words.

“I don’t know,” Wriothesley settles on finally, a furrow in his brow. “I… don’t know. Something I should have done sooner, probably. This… thing between us has been driving me mad. I feel like I’d regret it if I hesitated any longer, you know?”

And oh, you do. The unspoken tension that hangs in the air when it’s just you two in his office, when you have lunch, or spend time together— you feel like it’s been clogging your airways and making it hard to breath. Each day with you both toeing the line of the meaning of all those longing glances and soft smiles had been wearing on you. What a relief to know that you’re not alone in your struggles.

You hum, leaning forward just enough so your nose brushes his. With a thrill in your stomach, you don’t miss how he swallows heavily, how he blushes just the tiniest bit.

“If you’ve grown tired of our song and dance, then pray tell— what do you want to do instead?”

“Whatever you want,” is his immediate answer. There’s a growing confidence in his eyes, a hope that flickers brighter and brighter with each second you let him be near you like this. “Whatever you’re willing to give me. Whether that be just a single kiss and nothing more, or being able to wake up beside you and kiss you good morning until you get sick of me.” Then he swallows, his words coming out slower. “But if you push me away and you say none of this meant anything, that’s fine too. Like I said— whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take without complaint.” But I really, really hope that you don’t choose that last one. I think my heart would actually break.

You can see how Wriothesley grows more tense with each second of your silence. He tries to cover it up well, but you know his tells. He glances away, the flush on his cheeks traveling up to the tips of his ears, making him look cuter than you ever thought was possible.

A soft hand on his cheek is all it takes to snap his attention back to you.

“Morning kisses don’t sound too bad,” you tell him slowly, wanting him to hear every word. You think you can feel your heart in your throat. “Though I have to ask: is breakfast gonna be included in this deal? Because a hard ‘no’ to that is an absolute dealbreaker for me.”

And when Wriothesley grins, when he has to fight the laugh that begs to be let loose from his chest and the minute tremble that rakes through his whole body, you think you’ve never seen him more radiant. You wish to see that kind of softness on him every single day. Oh, you’re so damn smitten with his man.

“You’re gonna have to settle with my shitty cooking, but I can at least promise that I’ll try.” The look in his eyes is gooey and warm and sweet— the flavor of melted chocolate and honey.

You wrap your arms around his neck, slinging them over his shoulders, and rewardingly scratching the nape of his neck when his arms come to wrap around and press you to his chest in turn. “Sounds delightful,” you say, and his heart does a flip in his chest. Can scarcely believe that this is real.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asks softly. “I’ve been wanting to do it for the longest time.”

You hum, looking at him from beneath your lashes. “Go right ahead, your grace.”

His thumb presses gently against the plush of your bottom lip, the edges of his restraint visibly fraying. “My name, please. If I’m going to kiss you, I’d rather have my name on your lips, not my title.”

“Wriothesley, I’m waiting for that kiss.”

You have just a split second to register the absolutely lovesick look on his face at the sound of you saying his name, the way he melts and shakes against you. How he looks at you so softly it almost makes you choke up. Wriothesley presses his lips against yours, painstakingly gentle as he moves against you, in a kiss much too long overdue— the first in a series of many that he’s all too happy to give you.

[monst]

Hawks walking in on his naked sleeping s/o?

Back at it again with another part to: 

What are Pyjamas? 

18+ content? But just in case (MDI) 

Takami Keigo! 

Warnings: Voyeurism? Obligatory folds mentioned, Sorta spoliery? But not really what with AFO playing Pokemon and all that. Uh lastly, Keeping in line with the rest of this series, you're naked and asleep so… Let's go!

WC- 1k figured it should be a bit longer than the norm since it’s Hawks only 

     Few stars dotted the sky on his walk home. Light pollution to strong for him to see but the most ardent of stars. If he were flying, then maybe… but that was an entirely different case. God did he miss it. Shaking off the thoughts of what happened years ago he focuses on the nearly vacant streets. 

       He hadn’t meant to come home so late but his lecture took longer than expected, it didn’t help that he got caught up talking with Tsunagu. The older man had invited him for a drink and he ended up missing the last train home. He hoped you hadn’t waited for him but if you had, he did bring cake to make up for not texting you that he’d be home late. 

        But as he continued to walk he passed by an antique clock store. He let out a sigh when he noticed the time. “Yep,” he sighed. You were definitely asleep. Or at least he hoped you were sensible enough to be asleep by this time. He wondered how you occupied your time while he was gone. He hoped you spent it missing him. 

      He swung the bag that held your treat with a mindless smile as he recalled how he’d finally managed to ask his roommate out. He still couldn’t believe you liked him back. That you agreed to date him, low-key he was expecting you to be out the door quickly looking for another place. But no, now he got to kiss you when he got back to your shared apartment. 

His eyes honed in on your building. “Finally” he grunted. Golden eyes searched for your floor, and as expected all the lights were off. As he got closer he noticed something that left a sour taste in his mouth. Your bedroom window was wide open. Granted you both were on the seventeenth floor but had he been able to fly he’d have an unobstructed entrance. ‘Very unsafe’ 

      He scoffed, actually even without his quirk he could get into your room. And if he could do it who knows which villain with a grudge might try. Granted you wouldn’t believe him if he told you. You’d probably reply by telling him ‘Who would scale up here? Not possible.’ Now, if people were around he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it. Lies he still would. 

     Does it count as breaking and entering if the window’s open and it’s his apartment too? Scaling the apartment walls was a lot easier than he thought, even with the cake in hand. Meaning he was totally gonna use this as a point in his argument. Hell, even a random thief could come up here. Although a random thief was less likely to have hero training… 

     When his fingers reached the ledge of your window, he hauled himself in. Intent on not only scaring the daylight out of you but also showing you how dangerous it is to- “Holy shit” He breathed. His digits almost lost their grip on the sill. He swallowed thickly from his perch on the side of the building. Eyes wide as he took in your slumbering form. Your very nude slumbering form. 

‘Why were you naked!?’ He felt his face burn, his fingers cramped up from how long he was ogling. But he couldn’t help it. The most the two of you had done was makeout on the couch, some grinding, light petting but he hadn’t seen you. And god did he like what he saw. You were so pretty, painted in the scarce light of the lamp posts. So soft and open. ‘fuck.’

He slowly crept into the room for a closer look. Breath catching when your arms moved across the sheets to expose your chest. His greedy eyes took in the way your cute nipples rose and fell with each exhale. He could already picture them between his fingers. His eyes then traveled down the length of your torso and he flushed crimson when he caught sight of your pretty folds.

 His teeth caught his lower lip and his fingers twitched against the bag as he was overcome with the desperate need to touch, tease, and taste all of your exposed skin. He might’ve done so. But the blaring police sirens spooked him and startled you awake. You shriek at the sight of the shadow in your room. “Wait wait it’s me!” Keigo 

“Kei”? You breathed out. Your pounding heart slowed as you realized it was just your boyfriend. You flicked on the light, your alert eyes catching his honey-hued gaze. It was then that you noticed a couple of things. Keigo’s face was splotchy red, red, and blue lights were flashing by your window and Keigo wasn’t looking at your face.

“You pervert!” You hissed, your face hot as you brought your thin sheets up to cover yourself. “Pervert!?” He repeated mortified. “I-It’s really not what it looks like!? And it’s not my fault why is your window wide open! A-and why are you naked?!” He rushed out.                                      

    “The AC broke down! It’s hot as fuck! And excuse me for being naked in my room!” You replied. 

      “Well, How was I supposed to know that?! And, What if I was someone else?!!” He exclaimed. 

      “We’re on the seventeenth floor! You're the only dumbass I know who’d- My eyes are up here birdbrain.”

      “Sorry!” He yelped. Eyes shooting back up to you as you mean mugged him. He stood under your glare for a while, fingers playing with his wristbands. “D-do you want me to leave?” 

      “No shit! I’ve got to get dressed.” You huffed, your fingers massaging your forehead. You wrapped your sheets around yourself and tossed a pillow at him when he didn’t get moving. 

       He skedaddled. Slamming your door shut. He felt like a furnace as he leaned his head back against your door. A slow grin crawled up his face as he recalled how good you looked. And while he’d be in the dog house for a while, he was eager for another peek once he wasn’t. “Keigo!” He heard you shout. He quickly opened the door to peek inside only to meet your narrowed gaze, your foot covered in frosting. To make matters worse that was when the front door was pounded on. 

     “Police!”  

Tsunagu was not gonna believe this one...

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Pairing:Mobboss!bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue

Authors Note: I apologize immensely for the delay but my mental health has absolutely tanked in the last three weeks. I have fought enough to feel a semblance of normal and was able to put this chapter together. I hope you all enjoy, and look forward to the groveling and ass kissing our guys gonna do. Love, and many thanks, happy reading. 🤍

Bucky thinks he finally understands vividly the phrase ‘so close, yet so far’.

The two of you have been married a little over a week and it’s as if nothing has changed, he still barely see’s you despite the two of you living in the same house. You’re asleep when he arrives, and you’re gone when he wakes, and despite his best efforts, you’ve managed to avoid him at every turn.

He knows there is no excuse you could give him, no longer any reason for you to still be actively avoiding him the way you have. And while he’d give just about anything to have you at least talk to him about what troubles you, to enjoy his presence the way you had the night of your wedding, he doesn’t want to push when your discomfort is so obvious.

So he gives you time.

The first two days he gave you all the space you could have possibly wanted making himself scarce, but as the third came and went as did the days that followed, he found his patience running quite thin, an underlying hurt brewing deep within his chest.

Your close friends had all but advised against his plan to confront you.

‘She just needs time pal, she’s working through a lot of emotions, don't get a hot head because she’s coping in the only way she’s known, let her come to you when she’s ready.’

‘Listen, I’d avoid you too if I had to marry an ugly mug like yours.’

‘She’s conflicted B, she’s had her happiness ripped from her before, she’s been placed in uncomfortable situations without having anyone check up on her well-being, she’s putting herself first for the first time in a very long time. Don’t mess this up, because she won’t be the only one you lose this time around.’

He had taken their words to heart, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted to talk to you, to feel a sense of normalcy in your shared marriage, he wanted you to be happy, genuinely happy. Bucky wanted you to want to be in this marriage not because it was asked of the two of you but because it was something you genuinely wanted. He knew it was a lot to ask of you, but he would do so anyway.

Or at least he was going to try.

You're finalizing emails to meet with the other heads sometime this week when a knock stills your fingers on the keys and draws your gaze from the screen. You call out for them to enter, you weren’t sure who you were expecting but you hadn’t been expecting him. You only barely manage to conceal your shock.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You question unable to help the way your eyes flicker to the time on your desktop, you were certain you had mastered the times you arrived home. Your eyes flicker back to his, “I was just about to make my way to the house I would have met you there.” You lie.

He offers you a smile that barely meets his eyes as he closes the door behind him, your heart races in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you. You watch as he rounds your desk, he stops to lean against it, his eyes taking you in.

“Is everything okay?” you worry somethings happen, with his sudden appearance.

“I don’t know y/n, is everything okay?” he questions in return.

“Well yes,” you answer, “I was just -” He stops you mid statement, he doesn’t want another lie from you.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t do that sweetheart, don’t hide behind another lie, we both know you’ve been actively avoiding me since our first night home after our wedding, and you’ve been doing so since we signed that contract Monday, and somehow that feels worse than when you would cancel on me when I was with your sister, at least then I wasn’t catching on to the lies you made to get out of it.” Your eyes shut on a shaky exhale, “Talk to me,” he pleads, worried you’ll continue to shut him out, “tell me what I can do to make this right. This isn’t what I want for our marriage I don’t want -”

Your eyes snap open, “and you think this is what I want, you think this is how I wanted our marriage to go?” you question looking up at him in disbelief. “There may have been a time where I envisioned vividly what our marriage would be like but – I,” you shake your head unable to speak on that night right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” you continue, “I’m not even sure how to feel because before all of this,” you gesture between you, “I was certain with all finality that you’d be nothing more than someone I called a friend, my brother in law, my sisters husband and I was finally coming to terms with that, I was finally starting to feel okay with it. But just like that night I’ve had the rug ripped out from right under me yet again and I’m scared Bucky! I’m scared that it’ll happen again, that I will get too close, get too comfortable – fall in love – and with a snap of a finger it’ll all be taken away. I can’t go through that again.”

I don’t think I’d survive a second time.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he knows he’s pleading again, but he wants to do right by you, he wants to right his wrongs. “You’re my wife now y/n your happiness is above anyone else’s, I made vows to you that evening, vows I intend to keep. Please tell me how to fix this.”

The tone of his voice almost breaks you, has your resolve crumbling.

“That’s just the thing B, I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “How do I come out from behind her shadow if everywhere I look it reminds me of her, of everything she had, everything she took from me that should have been mine. I can’t even look at you without being reminded -” you shake your head looking away from his cerulean blues as you press your fingers into your eyes willing away the sting of tears.

You feel your chair being pulled to where he knows kneels before you, gentle hands prying your from your face. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, “y/n, sweetheart look at me,” he murmurs, “please.”

Your eyes slip open, to find his waiting gaze, “you are my wife. And ill be damned if you feel anything but. Please give me the chance to give you the marriage you deserve the one you are worthy of, I know you don’t want too, and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but let me try, let me try to be the man that is worthy of you.”

He can see the hesitation in your gaze as you look down at your intertwined hands, “what if she comes back? Decides she wants you back.”

He runs his thumb along your wedding band drawing both your gazes there. “I made a promise to you, I recited my vows to you,” your gazes find one another, “I am faithful to you. My wife.”

“But what if -” he chuckles shaking his head, “There are not what ifs, I’m. Yours.” He’s squeezing your hands in his, “give me a chance, give us a chance, let’s try.”

Your hearts beating like a wild drum in your chest, “Okay. Let’s try.”

[house-of-lovin]

love language

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | safety net (3)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loves to play games with you. (inspired by love language by SZA)

Warnings: sexual themes implied, mature language. toxic!tara, jealous!tara.

Note: this was originally going to be a two-parter, but I wanted to keep writing about this dynamic. So I made it into three parts! Sorry for the long wait, I've been deathly ill the last few days, so it's been hard to do anything but sleep :/ but the last part will be posted tomorrow! (idk how i feel abt this but i tried my best lol)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Tara: ‘Last night was fun ;) but had to run!’

At least she had the decency to leave you a text as she left you to wake up in your bed, alone.

Sighing, you sit up; cracks and pops reverberate through the empty room as you stretch your stiff muscles. You run a tired hand on your face and glance at the spot beside you where Tara was just hours ago. 

You should have known she would leave.

You weren’t sure if she even bothered to stay after you had passed from exhaustion after the fourth round. Tara rarely stayed over, her sister’s overprotectiveness made the occasion scarce. Coupled with the fact that the smaller girl thought it crossed boundaries to stay the night. So, the only time she had ever slept was when you fucked her senselessly she physically couldn’t make it home. 

“Morning!” A loud voice interrupts the quietness in your dorm. “I bought the three of us some coffee. By the way, I didn’t appreciate coming home to you and Tara naked. You do you, but at least send a text – or hang a sock on the door… where’d Tara go?”

“Left…” You flush embarrassed, grabbing the shirt on your headboard to slip on, and stepping off your bed. Shivers run through your bare feet as you step on the cold floor. 

“Oh…”

“Yeah… Oh.” You replied bitterly, moving to gather some clothes to start your day; even if it started off on the wrong foot already. 

“...How does that make you feel?” She says after a few moments of silence.

“You’re not gonna therapize me right now, Minds.” You laugh, trying to avoid her probing tone. “It’s too early and I’m nearly naked.”

“You’re really gonna stand there and tell me it doesn’t bother you how she’s acting?” She crosses her arms, fed up with you and her childhood friend’s immature antics. 

“Why would it bother me?” You say as evenly as you can. “We’re just hooking up.”

She scoffs, “Yeah right, Chad told me what happened at the coffee shop last night.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, he did.”

“Point is… she’s playing games with you and you say that you’re fine with it because you're just hooking up but I can tell it bothers you, Y/N."

You stand rigid, unmoving and slightly uncomfortable. Talking about your feelings has never been your strong suit, maybe that’s why you fell so easily into this routine with Tara. It was all physical and lust-driven; no words have to be uttered when you two are tangled in each other’s sheets. But maybe, somewhere along the way lines began to blur the longer you got to know the Carpenter. The more your lives began to intertwine the harder it became to separate feelings during sex.

It grows increasingly difficult to ignore that thought, when she acts affectionately toward you around your friends. During movie nights, she’d scare off anyone else who dared to sit beside you; sharing a blanket and linking your fingers underneath. And in the classes you had together, she always made sure to save a seat for you beside her, leaning into you as close as she can.

“I promise… I’m fine. Tara can do whatever she wants.” You maintain eye contact with your roommate; trying to remain unbothered.

“I can’t deal with you two.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying… you two have danced around each other long enough, maybe it's time you really talk to each other. Before someone gets hurt.”

You stay silent thinking over her words.

“Look... I really didn’t want to like you when I first moved here – getting stabbed makes people paranoid, you know.” She chuckles dryly. “But I guess the odds are finally in my favour 'cause I got a roommate I actually like… so figure your shit out because I’d like to keep hanging out together as a group please.”

You chuckle, breaking out of your trance. You send her a lopsided smile, appreciating her words. “I like being your roommate too, Minds.” 

“Gross, this is too much for me now… go take a shower, you reek of sex.” She purposefully avoids your eyes, turning to grab her now lukewarm coffee. 

You roll your eyes, laughing at Mindy's antics but grab some clothes anyway to start your day.

●●●

“So I just handed in my last assignment, which means it’s officially spring break for me… and everyone’s gonna be out tonight. Wanna come over?” Tara slides into your booth out of nowhere.

You flinch, slightly startled; dropping the pen you were using with a clang. You were currently in the common room on campus attempting to get some studying in before your final exam. “What?”

She rolls her eyes but smiles fondly at you. “I said, everyone’s out for the night. Come over… I miss you.” 

Your cheeks flush as your heart darts wildly in your chest at her words. “We were just together last night…”

“Yeah, but I had to leave so soon cause Sam was coming home early.” She pouted, moving closer to you to swing her leg over yours. 

You clear your throat, glancing down. “I still have to study for my exam tomorrow.” 

“Come over after you study then…” She places a hand on your inner thigh, swiping her thumb on the fabric of your pants.

“Tara…” You were trying your hardest to gather some sort of self-control but it was becoming increasingly difficult when she started leaving light kisses on your shoulder. “Tara there are other people around.”

You were lucky you had chosen a booth that was tucked in the corner of the room, facing away from possible wandering eyes. Even still, this was definitely not the time nor the place, no matter how much you wanted to give in. 

“Don’t care…” Her kisses on your clothed shoulder move upward toward your neck. You grab at her waist, trying to push her back. “Tara, seriously.”

She simply wraps her free arm around your shoulder, moving closer to you. “I’ll only stop if you promise to come over…” 

You feel her bite down on the bruise you tried to cover up with your hoodie; you wince. “Ow… okay, okay. I’ll come over, now stop before someone reports us for public indecency.”

She rolls her eyes, but smirks smugly, unwrapping herself from you. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t immediately feel cold from the lack of contact. “You’re no fun… but I’ll see you tonight.”

The Carpenter doesn’t say anything else. Just slides out of the booth, gathers her things and walks away from you.

You drop your head against the headrest of the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh. You feel like the most pathetic person in the world for giving in so easily, especially since Mindy’s words kept ringing in your ears all morning.

Later that night, you found yourself standing in front of the Carpenter’s apartment, contemplating if it wasn’t too late to turn around and run away. This is a bad idea and you knew it. You should have padlocked yourself in your dorm and not left until the weekend was over. But Mindy had convinced you this was the best chance for you to finally talk to Tara.

So here you were rooted dumbly in front of her door. Unable to bring yourself to knock.

The door opening makes the decision for you. “I heard you stomping down the hall, were you not gonna to knock?”

She has a smirk planted across her lips as she leans against the doorframe. 

“Uh… I was just about to...”

You see her brow raise in amusement but doesn’t question your awkwardness; electing to pull you into her apartment with a tug on your wrist. “Come on… I have a movie on and popcorn waiting for us.”

You allow her to lead you through the apartment and then to the couch, pushing you to sit down. Upon sitting, you take a moment to scan the living room; taking note of the one light coming from the kitchen, casting darkness to the rest of the room. She has candles lit up on the coffee table across from you, with bowls of an assortment of snacks. 

This suddenly felt more… intimate. You felt a pang of guilt for thinking she had only invited you over as a booty call.

“Um… what is this?” You ask dumbly.

“What’s it look like? Movie night.” She chuckles before plopping down beside you and draping a blanket over your legs. You feel her move closer, pressing your thighs together. 

The two of you haven��t had a movie night since before you had fallen into this friends-with-benefits situation. They were actually the reason how you and Tara became closer in the early stages of your friendship. 

Two months ago, she had invited you over for a movie night under the guise of simply being bored, but when she had opened the door you saw the slight redness in her irises and the tear-stained marks on her cheeks. You said nothing and just allowed her to pull you inside. In your attempts to cheer her up, you may have made a trip to the liquor store around the corner and drank away your sorrows with the Carpenter. That was the first night you and Tara had ever slept together.

“Oh… I just thought–never mind. Movie night sounds nice.” You smile, appreciating her efforts. Maybe that talk can wait another time. You didn’t want to ruin the night when she was clearly trying.

“Good.” She returns your grin, settling in to lean against you as she entangles your legs. “No talking this is my favourite part.”

“The movie just started.”

“Hush.”

●●●

Thirty minutes must have passed when you felt a hand run up and down your thigh. Your eyes snap away from the TV, looking down atop Tara’s head as she leans on your chest. You couldn’t see her face from this angle but you can tell she was enjoying how you tensed in her touch.

You ignore the movements, turning back to face the screen. But Tara doesn’t seem satisfied as she tilts her head up. The feeling of her soft lips brushing against your neck makes you stiffen even more in her hold. And like earlier, she begins to leave a litter of light pecks on your still-bruised neck. 

“Tara…”

She hums, scooting up to reach your jaw. Her fingers tickle your sides as she slips her fingers under your shirt to grab your waist, shuffling to sit on your lap. Tara kisses that spot just under your ear that always makes you cave – marking you. She has you now and she knew it. 

A part of you wants to bang your head against the wall because of course this movie night would eventually lead to sex. It always leads to sex with Tara. It was like a vicious cycle you couldn’t get off of. But the way she touches you feels so heavenly that you couldn’t even think clearly enough to stop her.

“Take this off…” She mutters, bunching up your shirt in a fist as she pushes it up. You pull back to obey her request, hastily yanking the fabric off your head and connecting your mouths in a harsh kiss. You slip your hand under her shirt, tracing your fingers dangerously close to the waistband of her shorts. She whines under the cold touch. 

“No teasing…” She whispers before grabbing at your cheeks to pull you impossibly closer; the feeling of her tongue brushing against yours feels sinful.

You wrap an arm around her waist, ready to flip her on her back and take her on this couch when suddenly a frantic knock startles you both. 

“What the fuck?” Tara mutters, pulling away from you but keeping a firm grip on your shoulders. She was panting heavily, lips already beginning to bruise. 

“I thought you said everyone was out for the night?” You heave, also trying to catch your breath. 

“They were…” She mutters, sliding off your lap to toss you your shirt. You slip it over your head swiftly, following the smaller girl as she walks to the door. 

She takes a look through the peephole and the scowl on her face was an indication that she was less than pleased. Then she moves to unlock the numerous amounts of locks on her door, yanking it open.

The twins, Anika and Ethan stood on the other side of the door.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tara says unamused, crossing her arms over her chest. You move to stand behind her, connecting eyes with your roommate. 

“Mindy said it’s movie night, so we came over,” Chad answers from behind his twin, holding up a plastic bag with a large smile on his face. “Don’t worry, we brought snacks!”

You send your roommate a glare, grateful Tara had her back to you. Slightly irritated because Mindy had been the one insisting you go see Tara.

Tara sighs, dropping her crossed arms. She glances at you for a brief moment, before opening the door wider to let the others in. 

“I’m gonna make some more popcorn…” The Carpenter mutters, leaving the room. 

You immediately corner Mindy. “What the hell, man? You told me to talk to her, what are you doing here?”

She raises an unimpressed brow, pointing at your neck. “Did she leave that hickey on your neck when you guys were talking too?”

You slap a hand on the spot she’s pointing at, attempting to hide it. “Shut up… I was going to talk to her later.”

“No, you weren’t.” She whispers, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “You two were going to have sex and ignore the talking part… like you always do.”

You cross your arms, scowling, “So you gathered the entire village to cockblock me instead?” 

“Yes.” She responds unapologetically. You stare at your roommate for a few seconds. Eventually, you groan lowly, knowing she’s right. You were about to give in to Tara and until you two have talked about what this is, that probably wasn’t the best idea. 

Ultimately, that chance to talk with Tara never came as the friend group all settled back in the living room to watch a plethora of movies for the rest of the evening. And when Sam came home, everyone knew to call it a night.

Maybe you dodged a bullet by not confronting Tara tonight. Not quite sure what you even wanted to say to her, yet.

Hey Tara, remember when we agreed to just be friends with benefits? Yeah well I caught feelings... actually I may be in love with you. And it hurts when you run off with other people. Ha. Sorry.

She would run away from you. Tara was like a deer, you needed to be cautious upon approach. But even then, it was getting increasingly difficult to just remain friends with her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Tara leans against the doorframe; watching as you slip on your jacket to leave. 

“I have my exam in the morning, but maybe after.” You stand unmoving for a few moments, wanting nothing more than to leave a kiss on her cheek but her sister was standing right there, watching the two of you with an observant gaze. So instead, you squeeze her shoulder, send her a tight-lipped smile and catch up with the rest of the group down the hall. 

You missed Tara’s disappointed frown. 

●●●

“What’s wrong with you?” Anika asks over the loud music.

Since it was officially spring break for everyone; students who decided to stay on campus have been throwing parties non-stop. And currently, that's where Tara found herself; huddled on a couch on a Thursday night beside Anika and Mindy, sipping on a red-solo cup as she watches people drunkenly dance around the room. 

“What? There’s wrong with me.” She glances at her friend, confused. 

“You’ve been staring holes at the front door for the last ten minutes.” Mindy counters, peering over her girlfriend to look at her childhood friend. 

“You can just say you’re waiting for Y/N.” Anika teases, bumping her shoulder. "We all know."

Tara rolls her eyes, “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

The Carpenter hears a scoff, “You didn’t even wanna go to this party until you heard she might be coming.” 

You’ve been…distant with her lately. 

Giving half-excuses as to why you can’t hang out, cancelling last minute on group activities or taking hours to respond through texts.

She hasn’t seen you since your friends crashed movie night and that was already a few days ago. You never did meet up with her the next day, and since then you’ve made yourself scarce; not hanging out with the friend group, always seemingly busy. 

She had confronted Chad on your whereabouts, she figured he would know where you have been spending your time, given your… close friendship with the boy. But Chad had merely said you were helping your uncle with his shop uptown during the break, hence why you haven’t been around.

Tara was hoping she can get a chance to be alone with you tonight and ask why you have been so closed off with her when she caught wind that Chad might be dragging you to the party.

“Shut up.” She mutters, sipping on the cheap alcohol. “She’s been acting weird lately, I just want answers.” 

The two girls nodded, unconvinced. For the amount of times, you two say you’re just ‘hooking up’ Tara sure played the part of the concerned girlfriend perfectly. 

Eventually, Tara’s wandering eyes snap to the door, catching a glimpse of the top of your head as push past the crowd with Chad and Ethan trailing behind you. You seem tense, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else than here. 

Before she can even think about it, she’s standing, about to stomp over to you but a hand on her wrist stops her.

“What?” She glances over at Mindy.

“At least, let Y/N grab a drink before you ambush her.” She reasons, glancing over at you from across the room.

Tara turns to find you, Chad and Ethan greeting a group of people, smiling and laughing. The group eventually trickles over to the kitchen, no doubt grabbing some drinks.

“Fine…” She mutters, sitting back down in her spot as you disappear from her sight.

Tara waits for you to come out of the kitchen for the next ten minutes; patience thinning by the second. This was ridiculous, you were literally another room away. Why is she waiting for you to come back? 

As the smaller girl's eyes remain unmoving from the kitchen door, she eventually sees you walking out with an unfamiliar girl beside you. You were smiling, clearly entertained by the conversation. Tara feels an uncomfortable pang in her chest at your undivided attention towards the girl. 

The Carpenter can’t help her moving legs as she stands, abandoning her cup on a random table; stalking toward you with an unrelenting gaze. Before you can even step into the living room, Tara is dragging you upstairs by the wrist; leaving the girl you were conversing with confused.

“What the hell— Tara!” You stumble behind her, desperately trying not to trip on the steps as she tugs you along with an unabated grip. 

She pushes you through a random door, slamming it shut behind her. Tara crosses her arms just glaring at you.

“What’d you do that for?” You huff, feeling slightly irritated. 

She raises a brow at your tone, “Wanna tell me why you’ve been distant with me lately?”

You stand straighter, “I’m not… I’ve just been busy.” 

Tara chuckles dryly, “Busy enough to ignore my texts?"

You didn't answer and the scoff Tara lets out tells you it was the wrong choice to make.

"You didn't seem busy enough when you were entertaining that girl downstairs.” Tara couldn't stop the words from leaving her mouth, fed up with the silence.

She sees a flash of irritation in your eyes as you cross your arms, defensive. “Are you serious? Why do you even care? You’re not my girlfriend.”

Tara’s brows raise in surprise. For a brief moment, you regretted your words as she looked slightly hurt before her face drops impassively. “I didn’t know it was a crime to be worried about your friends.” 

You scoff, “Yeah friends…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She stares at you, not believing that for a minute. 

“What is going on with you?” Tara steps forward, but you take a step back. This time, the Carpenter can’t hide the frown on her lips. 

“I think we should stop this…us.” You gesture between you two. 

“What?” Tara's forehead creases in confusion, unsure if she heard you correctly. 

“I can’t do it anymore.” You mutter, eyes trained to your shoes; unable to look her in the eyes. 

“Why?” She takes a step forward, reaching for your arm but you yank back.

“Cause I caught feelings!” You shout making Tara flinch; the repressed feelings you've been hopelessly trying to bury come hurling out; unable to keep them at bay. You knew this situation would only end in heartbreak the longer it continued. So you made the decision to break your heart first before she got the chance to. “I can’t do the games anymore… I-I'm tired, Tara. I think we should stop.”

“I–I…” Tara stutters, taken aback by your confession. "Y/N... we agreed we're just hooking up."

You laugh solemnly, roughly rubbing your eyes. Was it possible to feel your own heartbreak? That's really all she had to say? "Yeah... well too late for that."

"Y/N..."

“You don’t have to say anything else. You made your feelings clear. But I caught feelings, okay? I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but it just happened. So I’m sorry, but I just need some space at the moment.”

Without waiting for a response, you brush past the smaller girl, slamming the door behind you. 

Tara stands rooted in her spot, unable to move as you leave her to process what you just said. 

●●●

Reader:

:)

[mabelstone]

La Petite Mort

hozier x f!reader

part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist

cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy

word count: 2.6k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo

Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"

"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"

"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."

I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."

"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."

"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.

I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.

"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.

"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."

"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"

"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."

He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.

I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.

We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.

He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.

His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.

He was better than I had ever imagined.

Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.

He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.

"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."

"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."

And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.

I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"

Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.

Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.

I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."

He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.

He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"

I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.

All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.

"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."

He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.

I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"

"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.

"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."

I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.

It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.

To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.

He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”

He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.

With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.

“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.

"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.

"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"

Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.

When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.

He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.

“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”

“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”

You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.

“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.

“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”

I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.

Fuck.

He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.

"You are so beautiful."

i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text

[kurishiri]

01 ┊ The final promise, a mother's death

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— jude⌛'s past records, record #1.

— cw: domestic child abuse (physical), death of a family member, mentions of alcoholism and family neglect.

The amount of happiness a person is given in their lifetime is decided, and it is split equally for everyone.

Such was written in a book somewhere.

Just as there was no abundance of good things, neither was there an abundance of bad. Everything was made to be equal.

——If that was the case, then just what did this bloody wretched life of mine ever amount to?

Since I was born, I had never gotten a taste of that feeling called ‘happiness.’

My father was an immigrant from Ireland, who worked at the seaport.

The place was filled with violent people, making both public order and the working environment in poor condition, but not working would be the same as death.

And what was tragic about the job was the fact that you could be laid off at any point.

Jude’s father: Blast it all! I went outta my way to show up n’ they went and kicked me out!

Jude’s older brother: Was a fool’s errand from the start!

In the cramped house, the scent of liquor and tobacco pervaded the room,

and perhaps because of continuous exposure to that, my younger sister and I had weak lungs, and were often prone to asthma attacks.

Jude’s younger sister: *cough* *cough*...

Jude: Quit it already.

Jude’s father: ...Hah?

Jude: If ya continue smokin’ that stuff, ain’t no way we’re gettin’ any better.

J: If you’re gonna smoke go n’ do it outsi——gh!

All of a sudden, he hit my cheeks, and the moment I collapsed on the floor, he grabbed my hair.

Jude’s father: I dare ya to try sayin’ that again.

Jude: Hah, did ya drink so much booze your ears gone bad? I’ll say it however much I gotta.

J: I’m sayin’ ya don’t even got a penny in your pocket and yet ya go off smokin’ that stuff——guah!

This time, he hit my other cheek without holding back.

Jude’s father: Jude. How old are ya?

Jude: ...Five.

Jude’s father: Which is the age ya can go n’ work a job. And yet here ya are not doin’ that ‘cause you’re coughin’ a lung up.

Jude’s father: Who do ya think ya are, complainin’ when you’re a useless piece o’ trash, huh!?

Grasping at my hair, he tried to drag me around, when——

Jude’s mother: Stop this at once...!

Jude: Mum...

Jude’s mother: I’ll give him a talk and make him listen. Okay?

Mother took some money, and the two left the house for a drink.

(That cash... went and sold off clothes again, innit.)

She was a woman who could use perfect Queen’s English, and she was originally a well-to-do lady, or so I heard.

But, she pulled the short end of the stick, getting together with a good-for-nothing.

She sold the little jewels and clothes she had brought until she had nothing left to her name, and her health deteriorated.

—— Time skip (I think) ——

Jude’s mother: Jude, come here a bit.

Mother took me out to the garden, and there she took a stick and started writing something on the ground.

Jude: Mum, what’s this?

Jude’s mother: These are letters. They represent the words we speak... let’s see... it’s much like a ‘sign,’ so to speak.

Jude’s mother: See, this is how you write your name. J, U, D, E.

I copied Mother’s letters, writing them on the ground.

Jude: Wow, I could really get behind this. Hey, how do ya write Jazza——

Just then, Mother pulled me into an embrace.

Jude: Mum...?

Jude’s mother: In the times to come, even when your body is weak, and your money scarce, as long as you have wisdom, you can live on with that.

Jude’s mother: Jude, you are intelligent. I am sure knowledge will be your guardian.

Jude: Hey, mum, if ya hug me so tight it’s gonna hurt.

Jude’s mother: Hehe, you’re a big brother, aren’t you? You can handle this much at least.

Not too long after, Mother’s body grew weak, and she passed away.

The only thing left behind was the cold bed which she no longer occupied.

(She probably knew things would turn out this way.)

Running my hand along the cold surface of the bed, I recalled the final conversation we shared.

—— Flashback ——

Jude’s mother: Jude... I’m sorry.

Jude: What’re ya apologizin’ for? There’s a mountain of people other than ya who gotta apologize.

Father and my older brother drowned in alcohol, and even on death’s door, they didn’t bother even showing their faces.

Jude’s mother: ...I’m sorry, I’m sorry...

Jude: ...N’ like I said, don’t apologize.

Jude’s mother: ...Please...take care of your sister...Jude.

—— End flashback ——

That became the final conversation.

And, after that, my life stumbled even more down to the pits of hell.

to be continued…

first next →

masterlist🌙 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ PSYCHO KILLER

tw slasher!mattsun, final girl!reader, noncon, coercion, size kink, cevix fucking, fear play, blood play, cutting/marking, he uses a knife on reader, degradation, spanking, manhandling, forced cheating, murder mentions, mattsun's giant cock wordcount. 5.6k

a/n. another commission from an anonymous amazing person so make sure to say thank youuu to them!!! this time we got matTSUnnnn and omg this was such a blast to write anD AAHHH i hope you enjoy it and that it fuels your slasher fucker urge a little bit, thank you so so much for commissioning me again and hERe she is!!

You never really thought much about mortality, before. But the flashing lights reflected on the brick walls, red blue, red blue, red blue, and the wailing of the sirens, paint a haunting picture. One that even someone positive, bright-eyed and preppy like you feels down to the bone. You have the displeasure of standing with wide eyes, hands stiff and shaky from the evening chill, as the armed men move people out of the way and the person from the alley towards the ambulance; and though you’re across the street— you can tell. 

The way onlookers cover their mouths and gasp and try to unsee as the stretcher passes by them doesn’t paint a promising picture. Your spine feels all flimsy the longer you stand, one hand wrapped frozen around your bag of groceries, apartment only a few blocks away. It’s in the way the senior police officer glances around the blocked off street and tells a passer-by to hurry home or to move along, and the yellow tape keeping the alleyway separate as it trembles rapidly and noisily in the wind. You take a deep breath against the sudden chill that travels all the way down your body, and pick your heels up to walk back.

Back down the opposite way and to the blue lit 24h corner store you left mere minutes ago. The melody of the store chime is comforting, and you speed walk all the way down the aisle back to the register. The charming, delicate features of the young man across from you light up when he properly looks up, and he tilts his head much like a curious animal- one brow raising. “Babe? You’re back?”

“I’m waiting out your shift here,” you softly declare, sneaking back behind the counter where you usually dare steal a few kisses, and dragging out a shitty, plastic chair to rest your head to his hip as he blinks down at you in confusion. Eventually though, Haru just nods, his honey brown hair falling a little further over his brows when he leans down to brush his hand over your head.

“Okay. You alright?” You nod, and he doesn’t ask more— and eventually you two fall back into conversation, only stopping every so often to serve the scarce customer. When you two walk back home in the early hours of the morning, the people have gone, but the yellow tape still stings as you pass the quiet street.

+

The apartment smells of the cheapest of Chinese takeout when you drag yourself back inside late from work. Your boyfriend just barely peeks his head around the corner to come give you a kiss, gentle as he is, and slides back into his spot behind the stove. “Food’s here, and I’m just making some extra eggs for mine, because I gotta leave in half an hour.” The routine ramble is nice, you suppose, finding a smile on your face by the time you make it into the kitchen with him to wrap your arms around his back, and he hums. “Oh, one of your friends swung by, so I let him in a little bit ago- I left him on the couch.”

Haru’s hands are quick to pull you back when you let go, for just a second, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and one to your nose. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too. I’m gonna go see who needs me- real quick,” you smile, “and then we eat together?”

“Mhm, perfect.”

The door out of the small kitchen leads into the main room, and you look around as you swing your bag over one of the chairs- but find the space strangely vacant. Though a small pout comes to your lips, you just walk along, passing by the desk with stacks of books and lecture notes, to pull open the door to your bedroom. Your house simply isn’t big enough to lose anyone even if you wanted to. The bedroom lights are off, as you step inside, toes curling instinctively into the carpet; before finally clearing your voice. “Hello?”

At the very moment you turn, the tiny door to the bathroom swings open and a tall shape clad in all black steps out— and you jerk with a loud gasp, only to start laughing when your hands meet his chest and you glance up properly. Matsukawa’s dark eyebrows are furrowed in surprise as he finishes drying off his hands, before he gives you a ‘what gives’ sort of look. “You scared me,” you chuckle, as you lean in to give him a hug. “It’s been a while, how are you? And why’d you swing by?” The way he manages to move his arm over your head without having to change positions to throw the paper towel into the trash isn’t lost on you.

“Can’t a guy come see his favorite ethics tutor on a tuesday?” The familiar deep rumble of his voice fills the room, and you make room to trail back to the couch.

“Well, considering I dropped out,” your voice is a little softer when you take a seat in the squeaky chair, “I’d say that it’s probably a waste of your time. But I guess I’m pretty glad to see you again.”

Mattsun plops down on the couch facing you with a little sigh, before that same self assured smile you’ve always known him to have returns. “Don’t make me feel too special, teach.”

“I’m younger than you! It’s not my fault you took ethics again and needed my help.” The banter is nice, reminds you about the hours and hours spent in the library that always grew too rowdy for a study session. Mattsun’s a good friend. A better one than you are, maybe. His long legs stretch out to the coffee table, before he nods.

“This is a nice place. Cozy.” The compliment makes you feel all warm inside. Despite everything, despite the struggles you and Haru have to deal with, the money, the debt- it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it. Even if that someone is the most well accomplished out of your late friend group. “And the boyfriend seems pretty fucking smitten too.” His dark eyes find your face when you smile wider, lacing his hands together over his knee. “Nothing to add? Come on, I missed you so~ much. I haven’t even seen you properly for the last 4 months. Talk to me. You normally don’t hesitate to run your mouth.” He chuckles when you put on a faux-pout.

“Fine, fine, hang on!” you beam after a second of thinking, and roll your eyes. “Let me make a pot of coffee. You jerk.”

“You love it.”

+

You aren’t the most observant of people, but you swear… you’re losing more shit than normal. Some of the stuffies that were proudly displayed on the shelves are gone, and you can’t find some of your panties no matter how hard you look. And while the small closet in the bedroom is more mess than order, now you can’t even find most of your old photo albums, and some keepsakes from highschool and uni. But with your boyfriend catching his sleep when you leave for work, and you returning late- no one has time to go looking for clothing that’s grown legs, let alone do a thorough clean. So you brush it aside, and move on without your favorite pair of lacy baby blue panties.

It’s only when your boyfriend’s watching the news on his laptop one day, that it tickles something in the back of your brain. As you stuff another bite of pasta into your face, your hands still on top of the unfolded laundry.

A feminine voice flies over the topics at breakneck speed, as the honey brunet suddenly turns up the volume a little and stops eating. “Yesterday, another casualty in a devastating string of murders was found. Passerby’s found the body walking by an alley in Miyagi prefecture at around 9pm. The victim has now been identified to be Kawada Eiko, the 25 year old nurse that was reported missing a few days ago. Strangulation or suffocation are the two current debated causes of death, authorities say. She might have been the unfortunate victim of a lover’s spat, as she was found with blue panties constricting her airways. More about this at 6.”

“Turn that down,” you quickly breathe, and Haru turns over his shoulder with concern in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry. ‘S a bit grim for lunch…” He simply gives you an understanding look, before suddenly turning to knock his knees with yours. “How about you pick something to watch? Here.” His hands reach out to pull you a little closer, and cradle you against his chest. It’s sweet. He always is. And though you nuzzle into his touch, the story doesn’t want to leave your brain. There it is again. That faint flicker of mortality staring you in the face.

+

The stern face of the police officer- burly, heavy mustache and old- is exactly how you imagine it’d be, made very clear by the dead-like tone and eyes as he gives you an up and down. “This your house?”

“R-rented, yes,” you’re in the pajama-est of clothes from when you pulled open the door, “of me and my boyfriend.” The officer gives a tiny nod to the other two men behind him, and pulls out his badge to present it to you. It’s too early for your brain to function properly, but you still swallow at the sudden severity of the situation. “What’s- the issue, officer?” Your voice sounds even mousier when his eyes narrow in on the scene behind him, and your measly apartment feels even more inferior than usual.

“Sasaki Haru’s been arrested and is currently being questioned for multiple accounts of aggravated assault and first-degree murder. And we have to search the property, young lady.”

You stop breathing.

Murder.

Your head thumps, and you feel a flare of heat bite at your neck, clutching the door handle a little tighter.

Murder, he said. Haru… arrested for murder.

“We’ll have to take you in for questioning as well. Why don’t you walk towards the car and have my colleague escort you—” You focus as hard as you can on the words that are thrown at you, but really, nothing hits. There’s a blanket of static over everything in your vision. You might puke.

+

“Hey, breathe out. You’re turning blue,” Mattsun’s deep voice washes over you like a wave as you clamp the phone to your chest and try your best to relax a little, a warm, heavy hand softly stroking the area between your shoulders. It’d been a total coincidence that he’d called just as you were done with the hours of terrifying questioning, but as soon as you’d sniffled out that Haru had been arrested, he took time off to come over. Here you are now, hovering between sleep and frightened awareness in the painful, sticky seats of one of the dead waiting halls.

And though you’re glad someone’s here for you, because Haru’s parents haven’t even called yet— you’re also a little too wired up to appreciate the sarcasm and jokey attitude. After another few minutes of nervously fiddling with your phone and staring through the small window at the other doors, Mattsun clears his voice. “So… murder, huh.” His dark eyes are intense as they flutter over your face, eyebrows straightened. “Do you think he did it?”

You find yourself glaring, even though you can’t say why. “No, of course not. He’d never. He’s… he’s so gentle—”

“They’re saying there’s evidence, y’know.” You know that. It makes you want to rip out your hair and sob, because they showed you the proof. The dna, a kitchen knife out of your drawers, traces of the perfume you always, always wear— but you can’t shake the feeling that only if you could talk to Haru, if you could see him, ask… Your intuition tells you he didn’t do it. Couldn’t have. And they’re wrong, they have to be wrong. You would’ve known if you’d been living with a murderer. You would’ve. You just have to wait for an alibi to show it.

“He didn’t do it, Issei,” you softly end up repeating, and Mattsun’s eyes basically roll themselves as he looks away. “I’m telling you, I know him, and he didn’t do it.”

“Maybe- you just don’t know people as well as you think you do, teach,” the brunet places his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth as he leans in as glances over at you. “You’re wonderful, ‘n smart, and kind. But you’re also naïve, baby…” The last word falls deeper, and drags a cold shiver up your spine that only gets more intense when he doesn’t laugh it off, or look away. Luckily though, the door to the waiting room is pushed open that very moment, and a tired looking woman taps her clipboard.

“You can go home for now. Get some rest. And please stay available so that if we need you to return-”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you start, and wring your sweaty hands together a few times, “what about Haru?”

Her sharp eyes soften a little when finding your face. “He’ll have to stay until they’re done with the investigation. It might be another couple hours, or days. He can’t see anyone until then.” Your dejection must show, because she sighs. “Head home, child. Try to sleep some. You’ll be okay.” You barely manage to have enough energy to get out of the chair, letting Mattsun take your hand and rub a few comforting circles into it with his thumb. And then you’re walking home as he holds the umbrella high above your heads, and that cold only worsens. You don’t feel okay.

It just doesn’t make any sense.

“How about my place instead of yours?” Issei’s more reserved when he asks, laying an arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side a little. “Doubt you wanna hang out there now that the cops have gone through it all.” It doesn’t matter, really, so you nod- let him walk along the crosswalk and steer you down the familiar streets in silence for a while. It really doesn’t make any sense. Haru’s been at work all evenings that the murders happened, there’s security cameras to prove it. And killing someone in broad daylight, alley or not— it doesn’t line up.

Issei squeezes your hand in his when the silence continues, and you briefly look up at him to give him a little smile that doesn’t feel like it reaches. “Sorry I’m so quiet. I’m just…”

“Lost in thought, I get it.” He hums, before pointing at the long line of buildings. “It’s just along there, we’re almost inside. Then we can talk about it, or you can take a load off, or whatever.” The short chuckle is meant to disperse the tension, you know that, but even the tall brunet seems on edge. You’re still holding his hand, and you find yourself blinking at it in quiet confusion. But the thoughts are louder than logic right now. And if Haru didn’t do it, which you will yourself to believe with all your heart —you have no choice but to— how the hell did stuff out of your house get to the scene of the crime. You never lended anyone that knife, and definitely not the even more private stuff—

Issei leads you through the gates into the courtyard of the apartment, then to the door, into the dim staircase all the while softly humming. And you don’t know why your heart sinks as you climb the stairs with him in tow, because the building smells nice, and the walk to the door is clean and high-class. “Tch, you really are,” his low voice barely reaches, and you raise a brow. “Naïve that is.” The humming goes into a soft laugh when you turn to look at him, and the tall man smiles down at you. But though he’s smiling, the hairs on your neck go to stand on end, shoulders squaring. The vivid, unnatural sort of intensity in his eyes rolls your stomach.

And you go to pull your hand out of his, only for Issei to resist the pull harder. “Shh, calm down. I got you, don’t I? Don’t tell me I scare you.” He does, though. “Come on, princess, we’re friends. And friends are there for friends when they need each other. Now you're poor boyfriend's gone.” Your mouth corners turn down into a half pout, half open in confusion. And you don’t know why, you never felt unsafe with him before— but every fiber in your body is screaming at you to run. You want to. But your body refuses to budge, let alone turn your back on him. Issei’s always been a very tall guy. Tall, but wired with athletic muscles from the years of sports, and strong, and fast— and all of these things never scared you.

But they do now. The shivers that roll down your spine are almost painful as you stare up at him and that happy-go-lucky grin still stays on. The corners of your eyes sting when you try again to pull away, to no avail, and Issei’s long legs pull you towards the door of his fancy apartment anyway.

“Issei, let go.” Your voice breaks, and tears creep up in your eyes and your shaky whimper. “This isn’t funny, let me go.”

“Nah ah, I got something to show you.” His casual sing-song response almost makes you angry. But you can’t be when you’re too busy fighting off a full-body panic and planting your heels into the tiled floor. “I got something to show you,” he repeats, glancing over his shoulder again. “Y’see, because I really like you. You make me feel all- hm- good inside.” His curly hair bounces with each step towards the door, before he repositions his grip to hold around your wrist when your sweaty hand almost manages to slip out. “But then you went and got a boyfriend, and disappeared on me.”

He fiddles with the keys for a second as you use your other hand and try to pry your fingers into his painfully tight hold, and frowns. “And I- stop struggling- I don’t blame you. I mean- it’s not like I can even explain this little earworm I’ve got. About how you and I just fit together. I should know better, right?” He’s rambling so fast, and the door manages to be swung open, and you bite back a sob. You want to scream. You want to scream, call out for help, do something other than get pulled in further and further, but it doesn’t work. Your body refuses. Your head’s blank. “I know I should know better. Yet here we are.”

He pulls with his entire body to get you over the doorstep, and grabs your face between his hands to aim it up to his, squishing your cheeks until your lips are a puckered pout. And his deep voice goes low as he whispers. “You didn’t like my little stunt with the panties?”

It short circuits you. Before you get to think about it, you knee him right in the dick with all your might, and push at his face until he jerks back— turning and sprinting back towards the door. But his reach is longer, and he tackles your feet, sending you straight onto your belly with a loud, unforgiving thump as your head knocks against one of the book cases, and his large hands wrap around your ankles. He pulls you back a few feet across the floor, and though you try to kick at him, he’s quick to get above you and restrain you.

”Help!” you squeak, voice more air than actual sound. “Help me!” Issei grabs you by your neck and kicks the door closed with his long legs, before going to sit on top of your back and squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“Awww, fuck, babe,” he groans for a long breath, before grabbing your head and pushing it down into the cold floor as if in punishment. The loud knock of your skull against the floor is enough to force your thoughts out of you. “That really hurts, fuck.” Then he shifts, one hard knee in the middle of your back. You can barely breathe, and the little bit of air you do get is obstructed by the tears blurring your vision. “Little kitty’s got claws, huh.”

“Issei,” you start to whimper through your hickuppy breaths when his palm slides down your neck and under the edge of your shirt, “please let me go. We’re friends. We’re friends, right? So let me go home, and I won’t tell anyone.I swear, I won’t- wo- please, please, ‘ssei.”

“Tch, don’t go begging on me yet, baby. I’ve hardly even started.” His large hands roam around your skin for a moment, before he rolls you over like you’re a ragdoll, and grabs your face again as he bends down until your noses are touching. Him, overtop of you, his free hand training down the surface of your thigh through your sweatpants.

His dark eyes glitter in the low light, animated and joyful despite the way you’re trying to calm your wheezes. Which doesn’t really help. The harder you try, the less air you manage to use— Mattsun’s heavy palm sliding to your throat to squeeze the tender skin there. “Hey, guess what.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, before he starts picking anxiously at the stretchy band of your pants, sliding two fingers under it. “you turn me on so much it makes me want to fuck you until you’re raw. But you might’ve guessed that already, right?” There’s a low chuckle, while you’re sniveling under him with wet cheeks and a hot face, before he starts tugging your pants down your thighs.

You cross your arms over your face, and Issei laughs a little harder. “Aww, don’t cry. I know what you’re thinking, all the murdering and stuff, the blood, the choking, cutting open— it’s a lot. But luckily for you… all of that isn’t going to happen to you. Look, here-” he mumbles, pulling your arms away from in front of your eyes to force your smaller hand back in his, linking pinkies, “promise. They weren’t you, so I had to get rid of them sooner rather than later.”

By the time he finishes talking, you’re shivering without your pants, on his cold floor and tears all over your face- and for a moment Issei looks like the guy you knew when he pouts down at you. But then he licks his lips, and the relief is gone. “And you get I can’t let you go after this. So it’ll be easier for both of us if you play along.”

Then he gives you a once over like you’re a slab of meat, and hums, whispering under his breath. “I like when they play along.” It makes you cry harder, but barely any noise manages to come out, staring resolutely at the ceiling as soon as his hand lets your chin go to trail his fingertips along your tits. “So fucking pretty, baby.” The lilt of barely veiled excitement in his voice makes you want to sink into the floor, to just stop breathing altogether. You trusted him implicitly, and- though your skin is covered in goosebumps, it barely sets in that Issei was the one who— 

You remember the disemboweled girl on the stretcher, the yellow tape. And bile rises in your throat, so you have to put a hand over your mouth not to throw up. Oh god, you’re… You’re cold on the floor, your tits being gently squeezed by Mattsun’s large, rough hands through your shirt as you try to make your mind go anywhere else, to no avail. Suddenly he gets up on his knees to slide his arms under you, and you start struggling against him enough to make him glare down at you. “Don’t be a brat. If you want me to-”

“Let me go, Issei! Let go, let go!” You’re squished to his chest, but you manage to smack him across the face and get a little bit of wiggle room, and he lets out a low rumble of displeasure, before dragging you further into the house and tossing you down onto the bed. It’s even darker here, smelling faintly of spices and men’s shampoo- but that isn’t what frightens you. It’s the heavy duty cuffs dangling from the metal bedposts, and the way Mattsun grabs a fistful of your hair to yank your head back into the bed.

“Don’t move. Unless you want me to get mad.” The painful tug makes you whimper, but you find yourself trying to slide out the other side of the bed as he bends to search through one of the bedside tables. Your legs are going a bit numb, toes tingly as you dare brush your feet along the floor and make a run for it. Of course, you have to round the bed, and he doesn’t have much of a hard time grabbing the back of your shirt. With one stern move, he swings you over his shoulder, large hand palm landing so hard onto the soft skin of your ass it makes you gasp and tear up. The touch pulses and aches as he slaps the same spot again, and now you’re crying- this time from the stinging of your skin as he tosses you down and forces your hand into sharp, cold handcuff.

His slight frown and the stern look he gives you make your body freeze up, but then he leans in. “You’re a dumb little baby, hm? You don’t get it?” His eyes are wide, pupils dark and blown all the way out to take up almost his entire iris. His hand appears from behind his back with something that glimmers in the low light, and is sharp as he pushes it to your cheek. “Not gonna play along?” The knife’s cold edge next to your ear makes you entirely wooden, staring up at him with shallow breaths and your lips trembling. As he peeks out his tongue, the knife digs deeper and breaks skin on your cheekbone.

And it hurts, clenching your teeth hard as tears spill over, it really fucking hurts. Burns, instantly making the skin feel taut and pounding and irritated. You gasp again, grabbing at his arm with a pitiful cry. “No, no, stop. Stop, please. I’ll play along,” you plead, voice hoarse as you clamp your hand around his wrist. The hot, searing feeling on your cheek and the way you feel blood run along your face and ear takes away all other rational thought. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You want it to stop. “Please. Please, ‘Ssei, please.” The knife’s edge tingles as it leaves your wound, but the pain doesn’t go away, and you can’t help but sob. “Mattsun~”

However pathetic you must look, Matsukawa clearly doesn’t care. Because he groans, before leaning in to press his tongue to your wound, and then kissing you. And the coppery taste makes him moan into your mouth, while you try to turn your head away instinctively. His tongue forces open your mouth and melts with yours, sloppily claiming your mouth with a soft hum, heavy, large body coming to cover yours. He’s everywhere, as he grinds his hips into your panty-clad center and licks your mixed spit off his lips when he pulls back, throwing his head back.

You’re feeling a bit lightheaded, one cheek pounding painfully as you stare at him, and your one arm slowly but surely going numb from the uncomfortable position. But as you’re looking at him, he quickly rids himself of his shirt, and scoots you up the bed a little to drape your legs over his thighs. Even in the half-dark room, you can see them. The scars on his shoulders, his chest, ugly lines that healed over sloppily— proof that someone dug some nails of a key so sharp into him. Fought, and lost. It only makes you take a deep breath that makes a pinched, little noise. And Mattsun grins, rubbing his one hand along the skin.

“They were never close enough to you, y’know? Always something missing.” His one hand goes back to your chest, playing with your pebbled nipples through the fabric, before the knife returns and he drags it across your chest this time, pressing hard enough to cut your shirt and also the thin skin of your breast bone. “Oops, sorry.” The thin line of dots of blood that beads up has him bending to run his tongue along the little wound again, before ripping the rest of your shirt apart and sucking your tits into his mouth too. The warm mouth paired with the painful stinging and aching of your body has your stomach flipping and your mind blank.

Your free hand runs along his head to grab his curls in support, and his moans before biting one of your nipples. Then he pulls back to slap your tits around a bit, and running his thumb over the wound. Seeing the red before he slips it into his mouth is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to block everything out. And Issei chuckles. “Aw, scaring my little baby, am I?” The sound of his zipper and the shuffling of fabric lasts for a few seconds. Your heartbeat is so fucking loud, and the stinging is loud, and his voice is loud, and everything is so fuzzy. You open your eyes again, only to find that same disturbing look in Issei’s eyes as he rubs his thumb over the slit of his cock, spreading all the precum around.

There’s a lot, you notice, and also that his heavy, flushed cock is big. Really big, too big, making your breathing even more rapid. It’ll hurt. It’ll hurt, it’ll hurt, it’ll hurt— your mind blanks when he starts peeling off your panties and manhandles your legs around however he wants, before the thick head of his cock is lined up to your too-dry pussy. There’s some wetness there, but not enough. You tear up more, because of the hurt, the pain, the fear, your lungs aching and everything else- and shiver when Issei talks again.

His voice is low enough to shake your bones. “You’ll have to fit me, okay? Okay?” His sing-song teasing has you nodding your head, and he puts on a cheshire-like grin again. “Because when they didn’t, I had to cut them open to make room-” he points the knife into your lower stomach then, point stinging as soon as it touches and digs into your soft belly, “-and I don’t want to cut up my favorite girl.” His thumb rubs lazy circles into the top of your slit, brushing your clit, before he spits on it.

Then he lines up, and starts pushing into your tight, clenched pussy without giving you a second to prepare, placing both hands next to your head and pushing himself into you while each inch fills you up more and more. It’s such a painfully tight fit your legs shake as he pushes you all the way full, and keeps pushing. “Aw, aw, aw, Issei- hurts, that hurts-”

“Uhuh,” he just nods, and kisses you again, smiling into the kiss and pulling back to watch you tear up. He moves one leg to push against your chest, and starts grinding his cock even deeper, pushing you open too much, and you cry— only to make him pull back and do it again, groaning. “Ah, fuck, princess. Fuck-ing- godly pussy, agh.” His huge dick pounds against your cervix every time he pulls back and bottoms out, bulging your stomach in a way that hurts even despite the pleasure. But his body slamming against your pussy each time does feel good, as much as you hate to admit it. It sends tingles down your spine that makes you forget about the hurt you’re feeling. “Tell me it feels good, hm?”

He leans into kiss you again, before turning your face to the side to rub his finger along the bloody mess on your cheek and make it hurt again. “Tell Mattsun senpai that his cock’s your favorite. And I’ll make you come so hard you go cross-eyed.” The pounding of the sticky, warm blood and the skin that aches, the way he fills you, makes you feel it all the way in your throat, how loud your heartbeat is in your head and how your lungs fill only with shallow half-breaths, has you crying out long and hard, squeezing your fingers into his bicep.

“Mattsun senpai~ cock-ahg- hick- my favorite.” You’re not sure you recognize the way your voice sounds as you say it, getting your mouth full of his tongue again as you choke on it and the way he forces his cock through your cervix. Hurts, hurts, feels so good it aches. You can’t tell up from down when his fingers return between your bodies, and he jackhammers his fat cock through you.

“I know, baby. I know. S’all for you now. All yours.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[xxblairexxss]

Jealousy (part 2)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

I tried ending it in 2 parts but failed miserably I’m so sorry 😭 What’s the best remedy for this week’s GP. That’s right. Another angst. Enjoy!

“Where are you going?”

Charles turned around and drew in a breath, his hands were shaking. “I– I need to go and find Y/N, I’ll be right back.” He strode away, sidestepping the invited guests who called out his name and found himself back to the bar that he had seen you earlier.

You were not there.

Fuck. He trod to every corner of the area, ignoring every crowd because he knew you wouldn’t be in any of the groups but still, nowhere in sight.

“Charles!” Ocon came and sauntered closer, resting his hand on the lad’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

“I just saw Y/N. She was walking out through the back entrance if I’m not mistaken so I never thought I would see you in here as, you know, you guys were always together. So–” Ocon had his mouth opened and was going to start on a different topic when Charles made himself scarce, rushing steps towards to the back entrance.

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“Asshole!” You crouched down to pick up the small stones and hurled it towards a random direction. “I hate him!” Another small stone hurled in front of you.

“I can’t believe I’m ruining my makeup for a dick.” Hurled another one.

You were going to throw another small stone when a sound of footstep put your next actions into an abrupt halt.

“Who’s there?”

Your heartbeat went louder and faster, it felt like you could hear every lub and dub outstripped every other sound. A sharp click sound came from your heel as you took a step back. How you wished you were inside of the building with neon lights flashing all over your face than being in here at the moment.

“I’m gonna throw this at you if you don’t come out now! I’m really good at throwing things. Don’t challenge me!” You lifted your arm in the air and shrieked when you were greeted by a man.

“Chill, girl.”

“Who are you?” You muttered, as if you weren’t shouting your throat out few minutes ago.

“I’m a photographer. I take pictures of those rich folks inside.”

You too another step back when you saw him moving another step closer, too close for your liking.

“Sure. I think I’m gonna head back inside.” You said, trying to leave the situation right away.

“Hold up.” He clutched your arm and drew you back, causing you to bump your body against his chest. “I could use a company.”

“But I– I mean– I really need to head back. My boyfriend might be looking for me.” You jerked your hand away from him, the grip he had on you was so tight that you were so sure it would leave a bruise.

“I don’t think he would mind sharing you for a minute.” He trailed his palm across the side slit of your dress, causing the hair on your back to stand up.

“Leave me alone, you creep!” You walked away after pushing him on his chest which made him stumble back as he lost his balance.

“Dang, you are a trouble. Where are you going, sweetheart.” Another yank from him which took you by surprise, causing you to fall on the pavement. The sharp-edged of the small stones piercing through your palm, making you winced in pain.

“I’m gonna scream if you don’t leave me alone. I’m serious.” You scooted backwards, one hand pulling your dress away so your heels wouldn’t step on it as you tried to stand back up.

“Bitch.” He yanked your hair which made you scream as you fell back on the pavement, flinching as the pain on your palm shoot through your body again.

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“Leave my girlfriend alone, son of a bitch.” Was all you heard before you grimaced and turned away, gathering your dress to be on your feet again. You didn’t see clearly happened but whatever it was, it had assuaged the fear you had when you were facing the stranger. It was when you turned back that you saw Charles had his hand on the man’s shirt collar, one hand ready to pound on the face again. The man’s nose was bleeding and you knew right away it was from the first blow Charles had given earlier.

“You are fucking disgusting.”

“She’s a fucking dog. Keep her on a leash if you don’t want me to pound on her.” Charles’s fist had met his face before he could blink and you heard him groaned in pain.

“Say that again and I’m gonna smash your fucking face, bastard.”

“She’s—“ He winced, expecting another rush of pain to come.

“Charles! Stop!” You pulled him back and he ended up letting go of the grip on the shirt. The man immediately scurried away, tumbling on his knees a couple of times before he was gone, leaving you and Charles alone.

“I am so–“

“What is wrong with you, Y/N?!” Charles’s voice was too loud, too harsh that it made your breathing went shallow as you stepped away from him. “I told you to never leave the venue, didn’t I?!”

“I just wanted to get some fresh air.” You were struggling to breathe and let out a series of hiccups while your tears started to continuously fell, wetting your cheeks. “It was suffocating in there.”

“And look what happened to you?!” He bellowed, veins in his forehead popping. You had never seen him this infuriated it made you trembled in your spot. You hated to admit but this was similar, if not, way scarier that what happened earlier.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, Y/N!” Charles yelled again, feeling the blood roaring in his ears. “What if something worse than that happened to you and I wasn’t here? Can you just fucking listen to me for once?! What’s so hard for you to do that? Do I need to be on my fucking knees and beg for you to listen?! I wasn’t even asking for anything, I just asked you stay inside and you promised! You promised me, Y/N! We made a promise.” Charles was tired. He was so, so tired. When he walked out and saw you on the ground with a man who looked like he was salivating over you, he feared of the worst. He couldn’t understand what made you so hard to heed his words, the words and promises he made between both of yo in order to protect you.

You didn’t say anything. You were looking down, your trembling hands went back to fiddle with the ring, the birthday ring. Few of your tears rolled down your cheeks to your chin, down to the pavement. The blood from your palm was seeping through the fingers but it didn’t hurt. The fear had numbed the pain from the wound.

“Get in the car. We are going home.” Charles strode away, leaving you behind and you rushed after him, one hand holding your dress so you wouldn’t trip. You were so glad that you didn’t bump into anyone because you were so sure you looked horrible. Those hours spent in front of the mirror were just a waste of time.

Charles slammed the door as you got into the car but it didn’t shocked you anymore. Your heart was still thumping and you were sobbing in silence along the car ride. The ring you had been twiddling were stained with some of your blood from the cuts but you still, didn’t feel any of the pain. Your wrist was red from the force that the man put on you when he yanked you earlier which you had just realised when you had yours hand on your laps.

Charles had left you, again, once both of you arrived home. When you walked into the apartment, you saw him laying down on the couch and didn’t even bother to spare you a glance as he went on to play with his phone. You went straight to the bathroom to freshen up and finally saw yourself, how you looked all this time in the mirror. You looked dreadful. Your cheeks were red, not from your blush but from all those tears. Your eyeliner is gone. Your mascara was smudged that it made your eyes looked like a pair of panda eyes.

“Waterproof my ass.” You cursed under your breathe and pumped the makeup remover oil onto your palm, the other palm and began smothering it all over your face, wincing once in a while when the oil seeped through your cut and washed it off once all the makeups were melted. You went on to take a shower and changed to an oversized t-shirt with a pair of plaid printed sleep pants.

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Charles had fallen asleep and woke up hours later by a sudden ring of notification coming from his, no, your phone. The one he had snatched away from your hand and forgot to give you back. It was with him this whole time. He groaned, fingers pressing onto his temple from the sudden movement that jolted his awake from his slumber. “Why is it so loud.” He sat up and threw his phone back on the couch, making his way into the master bedroom.

You were asleep, the quilt was draped up to your chest with your hand dangling off the bed. Charles had sat at your side of the bed when he walked in. A picture of you and him flashed up when he placed your phone on the bedside table. A 4 x 6 photo of both of you taken when you accompanied him for Japan Grand Prix.

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flash

“Let’s try that!” Charles was going to devour the baby kasutera cakes when you pulled him by his arm, causing the cake to drop back into the packet.

“Try what, baby?”

“This!” Both of you stopped in front of a baby pink coloured photobox.

“What is this thing?”

“It takes pictures of us! Let’s go in!” You swept away a curtain that was hanging at the small entrance of the photobox, revealing a small seat with a camera lens in front of it along with a screen that looked like some sort of iPad.

Charles listened attentively to your explanation while munching on the mini cakes and quickly placed it away when the machine started counting down to 3 seconds. You hugged him by his neck, taken him by surprise and camera flash went off. “Oh! Another one!” Let’s make a funny face!”

“Funny or ugly face?”

“Both!” The camera flash went off again and started counting back to 3 seconds. Charles went on to grab your chin, facing him as he mouthed the words “I love you”. He saw your radiant smile, the one that instantly lighted up your entire face with joy, making his heart warm as he felt that tingling feeling in his stomach.

“Last one!” You squealed with excitement and his hands went to the side of your face, gently yet firm as he brought his lips to yours. A kiss that was full of tenderness. You felt his fingers tracing a line down to your jawline. The camera flash went off again.

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“Why do you have to be so stubborn.” He heaved a sigh and gently propped your hand on his lap. The cuts on your palm were no longer bleeding but the skin around it was still red.

He had taken a healing cream from the first aid box as soon as he got into the room. He saw your hands were bleeding when he shouted at you earlier. He saw the way you kept playing with your ring in the car on the way home, too scared to do anything, to say anything. He wanted to pull you into a hug, wanted to tell you it was all fine but his heart was hit by a wave of fury whenever the image of the guy, the sight of you on the pavement, the blood, the bruise on your wrist flashed into his mind. He was mad at you, but it was more directed towards himself for allowing that to happen to you and to hear the guy talked down to, the most important girl in his life, like an animal. He softly smeared the cream onto your wound, hand circling on the bruise on your wrist gently and stopped every time he saw you frowned and winced in your sleep.

“I could never forgive myself if something happened to you, precious.” He whispered, feeling a lump in his throat as he blinked away the tears.

“I’m sorry I went too harsh on you.” He brushed the back of his fingers against your soft cheek and pecked on your forehead, leaving your side as he went to freshen up.

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Charles woke up next morning, more like afternoon as the sun seemed to be way brighter for it to be early in the morning. He was stretching his arms with a yawn and turned to the side when he was then greeted by an empty side of the bed.

An empty bed, a handwritten note, and a ring. The birthday ring.

‘I need some space. I’ll be at my parents’ house until then. Please don’t call or text me. Good luck on your upcoming race.’

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✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @buendiabebeta @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @ironmaiden1313 @teenagedreams-cl @sheslikeacurse @love4lando @be-your-coffee-pot

[whatisame]

Bartylus, baby!!!!

Summary: Barty is in jail and Regulus wants to break up with him. Inspired by that one Shameless US scene.

"Barty..." There are no words to describe what Regulus is feeling right now, holding a phone to his ear and looking at Barty through the stained glass.

"I did it myself," he smirks proudly like it isn't obvious with his wobbly R and smudged g. Regulus is going to kill himself. And then Barty. Don't ask how.

What were you thinking?

Why are you making this so hard for me?

"That is not how you spell Arcturus."

"The fuck it isn't." Barty frowns and looks down at his bare chest. "A-k-t-u-r-u-s."

"I think I would know how to spell my own middle name, Barty."

"Fuck. Are you messing with me right now?"

"Are you?! Who the fuck gets a prison tattoo? Do you know what kinds of infections you could have gotten? Did you even sterilize—"

"—So you don't like it, is that what you're saying?"

"Jesus Christ." Regulus runs his hands through his hair, a fruitless attempt at soothing himself. "Whatever made you think that I'd like it?"

"I don't know, Regulus, the fact that it's fucking romantic?" Barty stared at him with raised eyebrows and Regulus resisted the urge to slam his head against the glass. "I was thinking that once I got out I'd have enough practice to make it look better, maybe even move on from the rusty needle. Then maybe I could give you one of my name. Maybe of my face? Definitely of my ass."

"I'm so not doing that."

"I'm kidding! You don't have to get one of my ass. Although, I must say, you're kind of missing out."

"I will not be getting any tattoos in your honor, Barty. It's over."

"What do you mean?"

"You and me. We're over. We're bad for each other, B."

It was startling, Barty's face changing from his usual couldn't-give-a-damn expression to something so solemn. Regulus had scarcely seen it happen over the course of their friendship. He saw it once, when he'd found out about Walburga's anger issues and how she chose to deal with them. And twice, when he'd pushed Regulus away after their first kiss.

And now, obviously.

"You don't mean that," he says gravely.

"I know we're not boyfriends, I know you hate that word but I thought—" Regulus takes a deep breath and makes himself look Barty in the eye. "I know about Evan."

It's funny. How Barty doesn't even try to deny it. Then again, he didn't think he would.

"Fuck," is the only thing he says.

Regulus agrees.

"I just came here to say that, so..." he grimaces, almost hanging up.

"Wait, Reg!" He sees more than hears the words leaving Barty's lips. He picks up the phone again. Barty is silent on the other end.

"What?" Regulus snaps. It irks him how the other boy enjoys making things harder for him. He knew how much this meant for him. How much he meant to him.

"Just–Don't go." Regulus scoffs. "I'll be your fucking boyfriend or whatever. I don't care but— Stay."

"That's exactly the problem, B. You don't care. I like you—"

"—I like you too!"

"Well I like you more! Clearly! I have been at your beck and call for months and you might pretend like you don't notice and everything is the same and we're still the Barty and Regulus from years ago, but we're not. I'm not. I refuse to spell it out for you, B, so read between the fucking lines."

Barty is silent for a long time before he speaks. Something about the shadows lurking in his eyes makes Regulus lean closer. Everything about Barty is magnetic, and he fucking despises it.

"I know," he nods slowly, "I have always known I don't deserve you. This is not me pitying myself, I know I'm a fucking scumbag, I'm proud of it. But Reg. Fuck. If you could see yourself the way I see you... Well, you'd freak out. I'm properly mental." He chuckles half-heartedly. "It's actually fucking annoying having you running around my head all day. Pretty sure my cell-mate thinks so too. Any day now he's gonna stab me in my sleep with my soap-knife—"

"—Your what?"

"It's a knife carved from soap. Don't worry about the details," Barty says, waving a hand dismissively. "My point is he's told me I'm getting on his last nerve by talking nonstop about you. Or at least that's what I think he said, half of it was in Spanish so, you know..."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Barty says while scratching the back of his neck. He avoids Regulus' searching gaze.

He knows he shouldn't press. That Barty is uncomfortable right now and that to leave it alone is for the best.

And yet...

"What do you say about me?"

It makes Barty throw his head back with a laugh. "Oh, baby, you'd be surprised."

"Well, go on." Regulus twirls the cord around his index finger. The one with the ring Barty gave him. "Surprise me."

"I talk about you at lunch, and make sure everyone knows how much I miss tasting your delicious food."

Regulus laughs but it's more of a punched breath. Barty practically bites through the spoon whenever he offers him a taste.

"I talk about you in the yard when I see the ridiculous cliques and know they'd make you laugh."

Barty describes them for him. He hates that it does make him laugh. He tells him he should join the retired christian hitmen. Barty disagrees, but only because he's forming his own clique.

"I even talked about you when some guy tried to beat the shit out of me. Told him how you weigh half as much as he does and could still kick his ass easily."

"Barty," he chastises. Try to stay out of trouble, he'd told Barty when he first visited him. To which he had replied, Don't worry, I'm going to make prision my bitch. It had done nothing to put Regulus at ease.

Barty smirks. "Shut up. You're flattered."

It makes him snort. Not bothering to deny it.

"I don't talk about you at night but that doesn't mean you're not up here being a little shit." He taps his forehead with the plastic phone and smiles languidly. "You haunt me. I want to know what you're doing, who you are with, it drives me up the walls."

Regulus swallows hard.

"I think often about how I'm here for you. And eventhough I know you hate me for it, I'd do it again. And again. I'll always look out for you first, Whiskers."

"You shouldn't."

"You see... I knew you would say that."

Regulus isn't surprised. They know each other better than anyone else.

"I'm still gonna do it," Barty adds, shrugging. "Even if you get rid of me."

"Like I could," Regulus scoffs. "Fucking parasite."

"Good," he declares. "Now, about Evan—"

Regulus' throat constricts. Right. He'd forgotten for a moment. Evan accidentally let it slip, how he spent the night at Barty's some weeks after their first kiss.

"It's over. I promise. It's been over for a long time. I haven't been able to–ehem–perform with anyone else since we..." he trails off but Regulus got the gist of it.

"Are you kidding? That was months ago!" Barty looks mortified which makes Regulus feel quite accomplished. Barty is naturally unashamed, unbothered and proud, and Regulus feels a rush whenever he manages to get him to snap. Pressing his finger on a bruise has always brought him pleasure. "Don't tell me you were suddenly feeling shy?"

"Fuck you, first of all. I don't want to talk about this."

"Did little Jr miss me so terribly he had to go into hiding?"

"Yes he fucking did!" Barty screams, all loud energy and electrifying gaze. Everything Regulus is fundamentally against concelead in a grimy boy who happens to be his favorite person in ths world.

"So you must like me a lot, huh?!" he goads.

"Yes, you asshole! Very fucking much!"

Regulus chuckles, chest warm and pleasant buzz under his skin. "Adorable. I guess your dick isn't the only thing that went soft."

Barty crackles at that, flipping him off as he laughs.

"I hate you so much," Barty mutters when the shared laughter dies down.

"Yeah, I know." Regulus smiles, gently tracing Barty's stupid tattoo with his eyes.

Regulus Akturus Black

"I hate you with my bones."

[chimielie]

“I’m just saying,” you tell your roommate as she shoves her wallet into her purse while you scoop up two of her bags, “spending so much money here for gourmet groceries is...”

You trail off as you realize that she’s more preoccupied with spending an extra second staring at the cashier she’s been pining after (expensively, you might add, because she comes here every week just to stand in his line) than listening to your half-hearted lecture. You glance back at him with her, jolting when you notice someone crossing in front of you from the corner of your eye.

“Move, register's mine for the next hour.” You look involuntarily at the speaker, who taps your friend’s crush (Yahaba, his nametag reads) on the shoulder. It’s a crowded space, so you stare up at the replacement cashier from scarcely six inches away, absorbing his visage like several blows directly to the kidneys.

He’s thicker-set and shorter than Yahaba, hair shaved to his skull and dyed blond with the exception of two dark stripes at his temples. Two tiny metal spheres straddle his left eyebrow, featuring above lashes so long he might as well be wearing eyeliner (actually, he might be) over burning eyes you could spend hours admiring. And—be still your beating heart—the shaved head reveals thick black hoops hung in his ears, glinting merrily under the fluorescents. There are piercings studded into the cartilage above, too, matching his eyebrow jewelry. He turns a little, so you can see the nametag pinned to his tie-dyed shirt; it reads Tarō, in awful scrawled handwriting.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my whole entire life,” you say loudly, not a single thought passing through your brain prior to or during the process of speaking.

He stops talking and stares at you. The sounds of the store, the squeaks of cart wheels and the music over the speakers, are suddenly headache inducing. Your friend slaps you lightly on the arm, a motion that you read immediately as you did not just say that, holy shit.

“Say thank you, Kyō,” Yahaba says jokingly, and she emits a noise too high-pitched to actually be laughter. Your face, meanwhile, is frozen. You think you might actually be deceased. This must be rigor mortis.

“Don't think I’ve ever been called beautiful before,” he says, squinting those gorgeous eyes like he's trying to decipher a dead language.

“I am so sorry,” you say, reaching out to haul your ass and your roommate’s out of here now. Your hand closes around nothing and you look around to find her engrossed in conversation with Yahaba, who is now apparently off the clock despite his replacement coworker wasting time looking at you like someone might look at a dead fish that had been thrown at them. “Um. I am so sorry. I didn’t intend to... harass you at work.”

He grunts in dismissal, flashing you a smirk that reveals fanged canines, and if you’ve had one thought that’s inappropriate in a public setting, you’ve had them all by now. “I have to deal with—” He tilts his head toward the growing line, cussing under his breath and rolling his eyes. “You have a good night, though."

Despite your miserable shame, you take comfort knowing that your friend finally had a real conversation with Yahaba, even getting his number while you suffered under his intense gaze. You can cope with embarrassment if it brings something good into the world.

The silver lining is gilded over when, at two minutes past ten, you get a text from an unknown number.

just closed. u doing anything now?

this is kentarō from the grocery. i got ur number from yahaba who got it from ur friend.

hope thats ok

You smile at your phone, envisioning the wrinkle between his brows as he typed the last message. You're gonna have to start budgeting for fancier groceries.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Twenty

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 2,626

Themes; isekai, slow burn (eventual smut), canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and mature themes

Notes; Hey guys! I'm just a tad bit late on posting but I'm sure it's alright! I tweaked the cover for the series, so I do hope you like the new additions to it (like the red strings I added). I'm working on a Rafayel one-shot that I'll post sometime soon...uh, and I think that's pretty much all I've got to say until after the chapter.

I'm sure yall are tired of the one character-centric chapters 😭 I'm gonna try to wrap it up as quickly as I can!

I hope you all enjoy the newest part to ToF!

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

During your stay at the Tower of Thorns, you were given a room. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call it a room since it felt more like an ancient prison cell with its dark stone walls and shoddy furniture.

There was an antique desk against one of the walls, a wooden chair placed in front of the table, and a tiny, twin candle set hung on the wall. While the room was scarcely decorated, at least you had a bed and a mirror.

As you got changed into some new attire, you pause for a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror. There on your bosom were blue markings engraved in your flesh, like cracks that would appear if someone wedged their blade into the frosted ground.

It was a clear symptom of Cryoriasis.

Cryoriasis was a rare and strange disease. Physicians have only recorded a few cases in old textbooks. The infected will eventually lose consciousness and be unable to move as if frozen solid.

Only the Creatio protocore from the Tower of Thorns can remove it.

“To make that peculiar jasmine bloom…” You murmur to yourself as you slide your dress on, clicking your tongue in annoyance. This is your only chance. You need to befriend the Foreseer so he lets down his guard. Then, you might be able to approach the Creatio protocore and take it for yourself.

Though you wonder…Why does the Foreseer care so much about that jasmine in the first place? It seems like you need to make your own investigation on why that is…

The following morning, you examine every inch of the Tower. Every decoration in this place is beautiful, but each one lacks character. They possess the same aloofness as the Foreseer himself. It appears they are trying to frighten strangers.

This place is huge…and almost lonely. It was too big of a place for just one person to live here.

Having found a silver bottle in one of the many rooms, you fill it with water and head back to the top of the Tower to take care of the jasmine. Once you reach the top of the steps, you see him.

The Foreseer.

His back is turned to you, but you still feel on edge as if you’re walking on thin ice just by being in the same vicinity as him. 

“You’re…not here to supervise me, right?” You ask him softly and he turns to face you with a raised brow before responding, “It appears your confidence is lacking.”

“It’s not like I had much confidence in the first place,” You murmur under your breath before you turn away from him to step toward the fragile little flower. 

A few prayers slip from your lips and you gently pour a few drops of water onto the plant. “‘O fairest jasmine, my life is in your petals. Don’t partake in the sweetness of Death,” You whisper your prayer to the little flower.

You knew that if the jasmine died, you would be joining it in the heavens shortly after.

From the pinnacle of the Tower, you spy a group of people walking along the mountain path. They resemble ants that fell into a desert of salt. If there are others here to distract the Foreseer, you could use it to your advantage.

You point toward the figures in the distance and turn your head to look at the dark haired man next to you, “Are they here to receive your prophecies?”

The Foreseer glances at them and with his right hand, he writes a series of silver symbols in the air. Suddenly, a blizzard befalls us. It swallows the mountain path, and the people disappear in the blanket of snow.

“Are you…trying to kill them?” You rest your hands on the stone that crowned the top of the Tower and squint your eyes, trying your damnedest to see any signs of life in the distance.

 “After getting lost in the snow, they’ll have no choice but to turn back. Their survival is but a guarantee.” The Foreseer says this as if it’s a fact, but humans are stubborn.

They might be desperate enough, like you, and try to fight their way through the snowstorm.

They could easily perish, even if the Foreseer thinks otherwise.

“Do you despise the requests for prophecies?” While you ask your question, you set the silver bottle down on the ground.

“Fate cannot be changed. Instead of acknowledging this truth, humans still fight against it. Especially when their future is not what they hoped it would be.” As he speaks, the Foreseer glances at you– almost as if he’s talking directly to you about wanting to change your fate. 

You clear your throat and lower your head, pretending to agree with him, “I understand…I will focus on tending to the jasmine and not ask about my future.”

Even if it’s utterly meaningless, you’re not going down without a fight. You just hope that your show of resignation will help you gain the Foreseer’s trust.

Several days have passed since then, you have once again forgotten that you were in a dream.

A memory.

This fragmented memory was beginning to feel more and more real. Why is it that you were recalling all of these pasts– futures?– now, of all times? For what reason did you need this information?

You fear how many more times you can take this.

Here, you have already memorized your daily routine for taking care of the jasmine. You could do it in your sleep– which is what you were technically doing in the first place.

In the morning, you hum as you take your silver bottle to the Tower’s pinnacle. There you see the Foreseer gazing at the bright, blue sky.

“Good morning, Foreseer,” You quickly greet him as you step past him and toward the jasmine, not expecting a response from him…and he doesn’t respond. You hesitate before looking up to see a sky free of clouds- serene azure reaching far and wide.

“Do you need someone to listen to your musings?” You continue with your attempt at small talk with the quiet, cold man.

“Silence.” He turns his body around to face you.

Well fuck you too then—

“Gardeners do not require mouths to work.”

You hold back the urge to spit curses at him and take a deep breath, biting down on your lower lip as you silently water the jasmine. Though you notice the Foreseer is acting a bit strange.

Suddenly, the sky is filled with the cries of birds and you’re shocked by what you see. Thousands and thousands of silvery white birds fly toward the Tower of Thorns. The sky is covered in a shroud of crystalline feathers– clear as frost in the morning sun.

They shimmer like a nebula within reach.

“What are they?” You breathe out in awe, forgetting about your anger for a moment.

“Arcticyons.” As he says this, he raises a hand. One of the birds lands on it, seemingly answering his summon, and happily chirps.

“Does it know you?” You question, looking from the bird to the Foreseer’s face.

“They pass the Tower every year when they migrate.” He responds and even though he sounds as monotone as ever, he looks at the little bird with an expression full of the warmth one would greet an old friend with. “Alas, that was eons ago..”

“I have never laid my eyes upon a creature as stunning as an arcticyon,” You muse, wanting nothing more than to hold the pretty bird in your hands. You’re sure its feathers felt like crushed snow, so soft, and you assumed it would probably feel cold to the touch.

“Your hand.” The Foreseer says and, while you’re confused, you reluctantly hold it out. He places his hand on top of yours and you panic, pulling back your hand.

“Don’t be afraid. Humans are the least of their concern.” It seems like the Foreseer is trying to comfort you?

You take a deep breath and hold your hand back out. His hand, warmer than you imagined it to be, gently grabs your palm. The silvery white bird hops from the Foreseer’s hand to yours. Its feathers reflect the colour of the sky, deceptively depicting a light, brilliant blue.

“It’s lovely…I guess you don’t just stay secluded indoors and read all the time.” Even though what you’re saying is a statement, it comes off a bit teasing.

“So that is the conclusion you arrived at while resting in ice.” He seems a bit miffed by your words.

“It’s because…I’m curious about the Foreseer. Your name appears in the Tome of the Foreseer, but the text only speaks of you as Astra’s tool…I don’t think its accounts are accurate.”

You should probably be a bit more careful with your words because to a follower of Astra, they could sound sacreligious. 

The Foreseer, however, remains expressionless. “Astra does not write His own story. The imagination of mortals is what remains in the sands of time.”

The Foreseer lets go of your hand, and the arcticyon returns to its flock. Quietly, he watches them fly away, bidding them farewell.

“I have to admit, you aren’t as merciless as winter. You care about the jasmine, and you remember to wait for the arcticyons once you’re able to move.” As you name each thing off on your fingers, you notice the coldness in the Foreseer’s gaze return.

“You are not here to study my behaviour. Your wild curiosity almost led to your demise.”

As the days continue to pass you by, you’ve grown used to this dream. If you were honest, you would have completely forgotten that this was a dream, if not for your memories of the other three men.

But while the Foreseer checks the jasmine every day, it’s not enough to get closer to him or the Creatio protocore. You realized that you need to spend more time with him.

Today, after watering the jasmine, you purposefully walk by the throne room. Your gaze being drawn to the narrow staircase and the pillars of ice that were formed behind and around the throne itself. And there the Foreseer sat, atop his throne, reading.

You clear your throat as you lightly step into the room, clasping your hands together. “It’s a wonderful morning, Foreseer. Have you paid a visit to the jasmine?” You have a small smile on your face, trying to appear as kind and unassuming as possible.

“What do you want?” He asks, coldly. His gaze never straying from the book in his lap.

“I-I don’t want anything. Why would I…” You sigh, dropping your hand so it hits your thigh.

Geez, you can’t do anything without it seeming suspicious to this man…

“You’ve never passed the throne room after watering the flower.” It’s a simple, yet effective response that leaves you stunned to silence.

You never realized he paid enough attention to you to memorize your routine... 

“Uh…” You were clearly grasping at straws, but you finally had an idea. “Did you know that today is Wisshen Day?”

“I have heard of it,” The Foreseer replies dryly, voice devoid of emotions.

“Where I come from, everyone prays to Astra by lighting sky candles. I made one with a few scraps of paper…so maybe tonight…” You trail off with your lips nervously pressed together in a thin line before the Foreseer finally looks up from his book.

“I don’t do such things.”

Ah…He is such a wet blanket.

He certainly knows how to silence you with a single sentence– and kill the mood.

As the day turns into night, you climb to the top of the Tower with your handmade sky candle. The night sky watching over you as you lean against the corners of the tower. A sigh escaping your lips as you waited…and waited, but the Foreseer has yet to reveal himself. 

“Of course he’s not going to join me…He’s the Foreseer. Why would he need to pray to Astra whenever he always has His blessing.” You speak to yourself in a low voice with a pout.

Then, you light your candle, watching as its weak flame shines– almost like a small shard from a star.

“‘O Omniscient Astra the Almighty, please don’t let me become like ice. There are so many places I wish to visit, things I want to do, so…please, allow me to live a little longer…” 

You’re not sure why it feels so…weird to pray to Astra. The you in this dream seems to be a devout believer in the God, but…You? Something feels off about it, but you can’t seem to place your finger on what exactly. 

After you whisper your wish, you let go of the sky candle. You watch as it floats into the air until it finally breaks. The pieces of paper scattering and falling to the ground at your feet, like cherry blossoms from a tree.

Wait…Does that mean Astra denied your wish? That little–

You let out a defeated sigh and kneel down to silently pick up the scattered pieces. You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes. Terminally ill and denied salvation by a God?

This really…It makes you wonder what you did to deserve all of this.

Before you can wipe your tears, you hear footsteps approaching and you turn your head in the direction of the sound.

Under the cloudless sky, radiant moonlight illuminates a figure. It casts a glow as white as snow on those blue robes. You try to calm yourself down, knowing that the Foreseer would believe it to be stupid that you were crying over something like this, and force yourself to smile.

 “‘Tis…a good joke, for even Astra thinks my wish is ridiculous. It seems even He’s told me to give up…” 

“For Him to hear you, I suggest using a sturdier vessel.”

Was he…comforting you?

An iridescence glitters in your hand and materializes into a lantern of frost. “Is this…ice? You can set ice aflame?” You question after rubbing your eyes dry with your sleeve.

“That would be determined by your fervent hope.” He replies, looking away from you. A small smile tugs at your lips before you light the ice lantern.

The fire flickers before the lantern is engulfed, ice turning a warm orange. “How do I let the winds carry it?” You slowly rise to your feet, holding the lantern in front of you. The Foreseer’s face is lit by the flickering flame.

Fire has brought warmth to his frigid gaze.

He draws a few symbols in the air, and almost immediately the lantern in your hand comes to life. It floats to a greater height. An excited laugh escapes you and you turn to look at the seemingly cold man. “I’ve never seen a sky candle like this! I thought you didn’t celebrate Wisshen Day.”

“I wasn’t lying…However, it just so happens a few lights are needed for tonight.”

The symbols that the Foreseer has drawn begin to transform into ice lanterns that soar in the air. Above the Tower’s pinnacle, countless lit ice lanterns fill the silent night sky. You gawk at the spectacle right before your very eyes.

Did he…do all of this for you?

You glance over at the man who was taking over your thoughts. “It’s so beautiful…Will Astra hear my wish with so many lanterns?” 

“Only He knows.” The Foreseer turns around to head toward the stairs.

“You’re just going to leave? Why don’t you try making a wish?” You were beginning to feel like the two of you could get along. You didn’t want this to end so soon…

“There is nothing for me to wish from Astra.”

He almost sounded…resentful?

I added some verrrry subtle foreshadowing that wasn't in the original games! I wonder if you're able to tell just what part has foreshadowing in it? 🤔

As I said before Zayne's Foreseer chapters are still ongoing so I'll hopefully be done with him soon, so I can move on to one of the other guys. Since I'm skipping Abysswalker, Lightseeker will be next and I'll try not to go too into detail with the story like I am with this one since I'm sure it's not that interesting and yall probably want to be back in the present already— but either way, let me know how yall are feeling about these flashback/forward chapters and if you think I should keep most details of Lightseeker in this story!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[babyhatesreality]

The little one seems like a adventurous one.

What if they have placed to be and they are a little late. Bucky put you on his hip so you would run around all the time while they try to get everything ready to go.

But when Bucky wants to get the stairs down fast, maybe a little to fast, he is slipping whit you and now rushing the stairs in his behind all the way down.

And little ones reacting would be like „AGAIN?! I was flying!“ 🥺😂

While they both try to calm down

HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE

This request gave me life. And made me laugh so hard. I love it. <3

Time is a Flyin'

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader (featuring Bucky)

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

He wouldn't look at the clock. He wouldn't look at the clock. He WOULDN'T look at the clock.

He looked at the clock.

Shit. Even later than he thought. Steve was gonna kill him.

"Baby, where are you?" Bucky hollered as he raced around the house. You suddenly popped up from the couch, the blanket slipping off your head.

"Here I yam!" you cheered. Bucky did a sudden about-face and raced back into the living room, making you giggle. You reached for him but squeaked in surprise when he hoisted you into his arms so fast the room became a blur.

"Listen up baby, Daddy's running really late to meet Papa," Bucky explained to you in a rush as he ran down the hallway, holding on to you tightly. "So I need best behaviors right now, okay?"

"Okay Daddy!"

"Good girl," Bucky muttered as he plopped you down on the bench by the front door and began quickly shoving your shoes on. He deliberately chose the ones with the velcro straps so he didn't have to waste time tying laces. He suddenly realized you weren't wearing a coat and just managed to catch the swear word before it left his lips.

"Bunny, go run and get your coat. Fast as you can, chop chop," he said, clapping his hands playfully at you. You squealed with delight at the new game and took off for your bedroom as Bucky flew back into the kitchen to refill your day bag with snacks. He cursed under his breath once he knew you were out of earshot; he just KNEW not refilling it immediately after yesterday's trip to the library was going to be a mistake.

He looked at the clock again. SHIT. He was so dead.

"Baby, got your coat?" he hollered loudly, throwing the backpack on and racing towards your room. He screeched to a halt in your doorway. You had put your jacket on, but had gotten distracted by your stuffies.

"Daddy can Jellybean come?" you asked innocently, turning to meet his eyes, but instead gave another squeak as Daddy swooped you up into his arms again.

"Not this time, Baby," he said, before giving you a long kiss on the temple to take the sting of not being able to bring your bunny along. "We gotta go meet Papa and fast, don't want Jellybean getting lost along the way." Knowing Daddy needed best behavior right now, you just sighed and waved to Jellybean as Daddy raced towards the front door.

"JARVIS, doors!" Bucky yelled as you approached. You heard the click of the locks right before Bucky practically ripped the door off its hinges, slamming it quickly. "Lock it up," Bucky ordered the AI as he ran down the hallway.

"JARVIS, PLEASE," you said deliberately, your voice jolting a bit as Bucky ran, which, in turn, made you giggle. You weren't allowed to run in the hallways- this was FUN.

"Of course, Mr. Barnes and Princess," JARVIS replied politely. You were already too far away to hear the clicking of the locks, but you knew JARVIS had it taken care of. You tried to pat Bucky on the cheek to get his attention as he huffed towards the elevator, but he was going so fast and you were bouncing so hard you accidentally smacked his forehead.

"Sorry Daddy!" you chirped when he gave you the side eye. "But did you see that I helped with the door??"

"Yeah, good job Princess," Bucky said with a quick grin, before focusing back on the path in front of him. He came to a halt right in front of the elevator. He mashed the button quickly, but it didn't light up. He pushed it again- nothing. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, practically putting his fist through the panel in his frustration.

"Excuse me, Mr. Barnes, but I'm sorry to inform you that the elevator is currently down for maintenance," JARVIS said apologetically.

"SHIT," Bucky hissed, then immediately held up one finger in front of your suddenly excited face. "Don't even think about it," he warned. "That's a no-no word."

"How's come all the fun words are no-no words? Dat's not fair."

"Life ain't fair, kiddo."

"Papa gonna wash your mouth out with soap, Daddy."

"I'll give you an extra cookie after dinner if you don't tell Papa what I said."

"DEAL!"

That having been settled, Bucky looked over at the stairway door. At least he managed to only think the swear word instead of saying it this time. He sighed heavily, and shoved open the door. He looked all the way down the stairwell. Your apartment was on one of the upper levels. It was going to take forever to walk down the stairs and make him even later and Steve was going to kill him even harder. He came up with a plan, but didn't have time to really think it through- except one thing.

Bucky's head snapped to you, looking you right in the eye. "Listen up, Private Baby," he said, using his Sergeant voice. You instantly paid attention, looking at him with wide eyes. "You hang on tight, you hear me? Don't let go for anything. I'm not gonna let you fall," he said firmly. "And don't you DARE try this on your own, got it?" You had no idea what he was talking about, but you were intrigued, to say the least. You had no fear of Daddy ever dropping you- he and Papa were the strongest in the whole world and you knew he would never let you go. So you did as he asked- you gripped him as hard as you could around his neck and locked your legs into place around his waist.

"Okay, Sergeant Daddy!"

The next thing you knew, you were flying through the air. Daddy was jumping over entire flights of stairs, holding on to you so tightly it took your breath away. Your focus kept snapping back and forth between the intense concentration on his face as he leaped and the whoosh of air blowing your hair back as the concrete stairs just disappeared underneath you. You were just completely at a loss for words or actions as you held on for dear life and the floors of the tower passed by in a blur.

Bucky finally made it to the ground floor where the garage was, and stopped. Super soldier or not, he needed a moment after that. Breathing hard, he craned his neck to look down at you. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked, trying to regulate his breathing as he swallowed hard. You didn't answer for a moment, you just stared at the ground, then slowly turned your head to look at him. You blinked twice, but didn't say anything. "Baby?" he asked again, starting to panic a bit. "Are you okay?"

"AGAIN!!!" you suddenly screamed joyfully, catching him completely off guard. "AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!!!! DO IT AGAIN DADDY!!!!"

Bucky's face couldn't have been more shocked if he'd tried. "Wh-what?" he said stupidly, not believing what he was hearing.

"CAN WE DO IT AGAIN????" you begged, bouncing in his arms. "That was the mostest funnest thing ever!!! We was FLYING!!!" You were wiggling so hard in your sheer delight that YOU were now shaking HIM. "Can we please do it again??? I promise to be good forever!!! Please please please again again again!!!!"

Knowing he now had TWO big problems on his hands, Bucky just started storming towards their car, which, of course, was all the way at the other end of the floor. The world was against him today. "Listen, Trouble," he said. "You remember how I said we weren't telling Papa about the no-no word?"

"Yeah, and da cookie!"

"If you don't tell Papa about flying down the stairs like we just did, I will let you pick out three new stuffies this weekend."

"WOW!! Dis many??" you asked, delightedly holding up three fingers. He couldn't help but grin.

"You are so smart," he said, kissing the side of your head as he hurried. "Yup, that many. But you CANNOT tell Papa. You tell Papa and the deal's off, got it?"

"Got it!"

"It'll be our little secret about flying, okay?"

"Okay! I am really good at secrets about flying, Daddy! Like how it's a secret when Uncle Sam is watching me and we go flying around the city with his falcon wings."

"Wait- WHAT?!"

[jokeringcutio]

Reader x Stepbrother Stu - Period

Rating: Mature (Due to themes and remarks made by Stu)

This is more of a cute/fluff/comfy little story with some banter in it.

Summary: You get your period for the very first time since moving in with your new family. Your stepbrother is there to annoy you.

Reader’s first period with Stu

1.

It was quiet in the house, for which you were thankful. Your stepdad was at work and mom was away with some of the new friends she’d been making. Which left Stu, but he was usually hanging out with his friends. And as such, you were left to the bliss of finding your own distraction from the current problem. At least there’d be no one nagging in your ears.

Your cramps had hit like a knife in the gut, twisting and churning. You curled into the fetal position on the couch, clutching a heating pad to your abdomen whilst willing the pain to go away. Not that it ever worked. It seemed that if a God existed, he had punished you greatly when it came to biology. You liked to think of it in more mythological terms as being cursed.

"Hey, you okay?" Stu pokes his head in.

Yep, definitely cursed.

Your peace and quiet was over as your stepbrother came waltzing into the room, being his usual self, rattling off a string of questions and random comments before you could answer. At least his long string of haphazardly thrown-together words ended with something that you could decipher and answer.

"I'm heading to the mall, you need anything?"

“No.” You needed things but doubted there was anything that you could actually ask him to get for you. Some things were just too embarrassing to ask. Feeling his inquisitive stare, which annoyed you beyond words, you groaned.

You had a headache, a sore back, were stabbed to death on the inside of your tummy, and felt like you could throw up any minute now. Could he not go and annoy another?

Not to mention how yucky, icky, and incredibly unappealing you felt you were at this point. You wish you could hide yourself from his eyes. So much for good impressions and trying to be the pleasant younger sister in this household.

"Just leave me alone."

But Stu, being his usual annoying self, did the complete opposite of your wishes and sauntered over to peer down at you. His light blue eyes were full of joyful mischief. "Come on, don't be like that. I was just asking."

If looks could kill he’d be a dead man for even daring to use such a jocular voice around you right now. As if things were merry, when they definitely were not.

His eyes flicked down to the heating pad on your tummy and a smirk tugged at his lips.

"I'm not in the mood, Stu," you warned, a sentence through gritted teeth in the hopes of stopping him with whatever he was about to say. In vain, of course.  

"Ah." He nodded slowly, feigning understanding. "Shark week, huh?"

And perhaps he did understand. He had a mother too once. Not to mention the many girlfriends he kept telling you about. Surely Casey had gotten hers during the time they were dating. How had he handled that? Had he been just as annoying, you wondered?

You glared at him. "Get out."

"All right all right, sheesh.” Stu held up his hands in surrender, but the amused glint didn't leave his eyes. "I’m gonna make myself scarce unless the shark decides to bite," he couldn’t help but jibe.  

"Here I thought you were a fan of horror,” you drily retorted as you watched his retreat.

“Horror movies with slasher killers. Not with animals in the lead,” Stu called back.

You listened as he moved around in the kitchen, presumably looking for the grocery bags. At least he’d fallen quiet, and so you rested your arm to cover your eyes and focused on the heat of the pad on your sore abdomen. Go away, stupid pain.

Truly, in times like these, it sucked to be born with these feminine parts. And if you could swap them with someone, you’d definitely give them to Stu. Let him know what it feels like. Then you would be the one nagging at his head while he had a headache. See if he likes it.

The rummaging stopped and the creaking of the floorboards signaled Stu had come to a halt near the doorway, probably on his way out. But there was a tense silence in the air, as if he were up to something. He didn’t leave you guessing what that something was for long, though, as his words cut through the air not long after.

"Oh, just to be that heating pad, a little lower, resting between your le-”

"Get out!" You hurled a pillow at him. By the sound of it, you had hit the wall. The laughter indicated you had missed your target. At least you heard him disappear down the hall. Then the front door sounded.

Wrapping the heating pad more tightly around your middle, you settled in for a long few hours of cramps and irritation, wanting nothing more than for the week to be over. Luckily you knew just the movie to keep your mind off things.

2.

A bit over an hour had gone when the front door opened and closed. You didn’t bother looking away from the movie you were watching, assuming Stu was back from his shopping trip. It was still too early for it to be your mom or your stepdad.

Footsteps approached.

Then something hit you in the face.

You sputtered, grabbing the object to see a familiar color packaging in your hands. Sanitary pads. Your usual brand. How had Stu known?

Your eyes slid up to see Stu unpacking the bags in the kitchen, his back to you, deliberately casual. As if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. But there was a stiffness to his shoulders that betrayed his fake nonchalance.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you stared at the package in your hands. He’d actually bought these for you? Hadn’t he been embarrassed? No young man went to the shops to get that for their sister willingly, did they? Not when their sister was this new, not even their actual blood.

Right?

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice would come out steady. "You didn't have to suffer through buying these."

"What, and miss seeing the look on the cashier’s face?" He glanced over his shoulder, a crooked grin lifting one side of his mouth. "Come on, like I'd pass up an opportunity to embarrass you."

Ah. So it wasn’t out of the good of his heart. It was just another one of his ways to tease you, make a fool of you, and get you all flustered again. Just so he could have a laugh. You should have guessed…

You rolled your eyes. "You're insufferable."

"Yeah, but you will come to love me for it." He turned back to unpacking the groceries, but not before you saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, as if his teasing covered something deeper.

Perhaps something he wasn't sure you reciprocated.

You considered the package in your hands again, a small but meaningful gesture. Then you said quietly, "Yeah. I do."

Stu stilled for a moment, then cleared his throat. When he turned around again, his smile was softer. Genuine. "Good. 'Cause you're stuck with me, shark week or not."

You huffed out a laugh and shook your head. Trust Stu to ruin a tender moment with his usual irreverence.

Still, his admission lingered, as warm and comforting as the fleece blanket around your shoulders.

As Stu unpacked the rest of the groceries, you returned to watching your screen, the bright lights flickering, painting your face with its colors. The cramps hadn't eased completely, but somehow they seemed more tolerable now. More bearable.

You’d lost yourself in the movie, the soft sounds of Stu busying himself in the kitchen a nice comforting background noise. You heard when he joined you in the living room again and noticed how his footsteps came to a halt next to the couch, so you made room for him to join you.

A second surprise came when a hand blocked your view, a bowl held in it. You looked up, confused, to meet Stu’s sparkling blue eyes. “Come on, take it,” he said, a toothy smile encouraging you to take the bowl from his hands and look at what was inside.

Stu moved nearly instantly to your side, joining you on the couch, his hip against your own, touching through the blanket.

“They say girls like these kinds of things,” he started, his excuse veiled by casualness. “I didn’t know what your fancy was.”

Your eyes drifted to the contents of the bowl, which contained a mixture of chocolates and sweets.

“Stu..” your voice trailed off. Had you been wrong? Was this more than teasing you? Did he actually care?

He moved beside you, pressing a button so the movie – which had been paused- continued playing again, draping an arm along the back of the couch. His fingers brushed your shoulder in a casual caress, a silent reassurance.

You decided not to comment on his closeness, nor on the way his fingers moved past your shoulder. This way, the start of your monthly wasn’t so bad.

Not bad at all actually.

~

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